‘I was drenched to the skin and this was all Mr King’s housekeeper could muster. My own garments should have arrived in my absence. If you would care to take me to my room, I shall change into something more acceptable.’
Her new friend giggled and grabbed Kitty’s arm. ‘I was funning, I guessed immediately what had happened. Lizzy has found you an excellent dresser, her name is Annie, and she has been with us this age and has been well-trained in all the duties necessary to keep you looking your best.’
‘I am to have my own abigail? I shall scarcely know myself and before long will think that I am truly a lady of means and not a poor relation.’ This statement was not intended to be taken seriously but Georgiana immediately looked concerned.
‘You must never call yourself that, you are my sister and part of my family.’ She looked around to make sure Darcy and Lizzy were not close enough to overhear her next remark. ‘I heard my brother tell your sister that he intends to settle a substantial dowry on both you and your sister Mary. I should not be telling you this, but it means that you are no longer a poor anything. You are an eligible heiress, and we shall be presented at court together next year.’
This was indeed news to Kitty. Six months ago she would have been cock-a-hoop and wish to immediately write to her younger sister, now Lydia Wickham, and boast of her good fortune. However, she hoped she was as changed as Darcy. She no longer spent her days reading such romantic novels as, The Romance of the Forest, The Mysteries of Udolpho or The Midnight Bell and dreaming of the day when she would meet a handsome, red-coated officer.
In future she intended to spend her time improving her playing of the pianoforte, (Lizzy had told her Georgiana was a virtuoso on this instrument), painting watercolours and learning from Lizzy how to run a large household. She had no intention of rushing into matrimony as Lydia had, only to regret her choice within a week or two of the wedding.
Papa had married impulsively, blinded by the beautiful young lady which her Mama had once been, and had discovered to his detriment that they had little in common. Kitty smiled as she recalled her father telling her he intended to escape to Derbyshire in the New Year and make a prolonged visit to Pemberley. Mama refused to travel in the winter, even the thought of visiting such a prestigious place would not prise her from Longbourn until the weather was more clement and the roads less hazardous.
Fortunately Georgiana did not appear to need a reply to her astounding statement as she bustled her into the huge black and white chequered entrance hall. ‘There is a central passageway that leads from one end of the house to the other so really it will be impossible for you to get lost. Do not you admire the Great Staircase? When we are away from here folk come from all over the country to be shown about this house and the staircase is particularly well spoken of.’
The staircase was indeed very handsome, being made of polished white marble and wide enough to drive a carriage up, if one should have wished to do so. ‘The carving on the outside is beautiful, I’m not surprised visitors are impressed.’ She stopped to stare in awe at the ceiling upon which were carved garlands of fruit, flowers and palm branches.
They ran up the stairs arm in arm and she was all but dragged down a wide passageway, noticing as she passed that the walls were covered with boring, brown portraits of long gone ancestors. Kitty did not care much for these. They dashed across the vast gallery and along a wide corridor which was illuminated by a row of tall windows at the far end.
‘We have adjoining apartments, Kitty, but I am hoping once we are better acquainted you will wish to share with me. I shall show you your rooms first – you have a pretty sitting room, a bedchamber and dressing room. There is also a small side room for sewing and such like.’ She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘The room is not for you, of course, it is for your maidservants to work in.’
‘I am quite content to sew, but I cannot abide embroidery. Making a garment that someone will eventually wear seems a sensible use of my time, but not embroidering flowers and animals on a cushion cover.’
Everything about the Darcys was confusing. Lizzy had been at great pains to explain to her that Georgiana was a quiet, shy young lady who rarely spoke, and Kitty knew from her own experience that Darcy himself was taciturn and not renowned for his good humour. Now everything was topsy-turvy and she was so excited she believed she might burst.
Despite the plethora of footmen downstairs, on the first floor there were none. Her companion threw open the door and stepped aside to allow Kitty to walk in. ‘Do you like it? I chose the hangings myself, I think that yellow is such a happy colour and far better than burgundy and green.’
‘It is everything I could have dreamt of, Georgiana. I love the peacocks strutting across the curtains and on the cushion covers.’ She ran from one item of furniture to another exclaiming in delight. ‘I have an escritoire and it is fully stocked with pens, paper and ink. I do believe I see an easel in the corner and a box of paints and brushes to go with it.’ She turned and embraced her new sister. ‘As soon as I am changed I shall go downstairs and thank Lizzy and Mr Darcy. I am going to love it here, we are going to have such fun together.’
‘Do you ride?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘No, I had no opportunity to learn; my sister Jane is the only horsewoman in our family. However, I should dearly love to start, if that is possible?’
‘Our head groom, Sam Roberts, taught me and he shall do the same for you. We cannot explore all the park on foot, there are hundreds of acres surrounding the house. However, that is a pastime for the better weather, until then we have the whole of Pemberley to enjoy.’
The bedchamber was as delightful as the sitting room with a large tester bed, a chaise longue and all the necessary drawers and cabinets. A diminutive girl dressed in a smart, grey cotton gown and pristine white cap and apron curtsied politely. Hovering behind her was a taller, plumper girl dressed identically. ‘I am Annie, Miss Bennet, I am your dresser and Jenny is your chambermaid. I have unpacked and pressed your clothes. Would you like me to select something for you?’
Kitty turned to her companion. ‘At what time do you dine? I have no wish to change more often than I need to.’
‘Fitzwilliam prefers to keep Town hours. We eat at seven o’clock so you have no need to put on your evening gown at the moment. Have you something similar to mine you can wear?’
Georgiana’s simple gown was in heavy, damask-rose cotton with a pretty spencer in a darker shade. ‘Annie, would you find me something? I also require a fresh chemise and petticoats.’
‘I shall accompany you, Kitty, and help you choose.’
In a remarkably short space of time she was freshly gowned in a jonquil cambric, with a gold sash tied under the bosom. As this gown had long sleeves there was no need to add a spencer. Her boots had been removed and she was now wearing matching indoor slippers.
She was desperate to ask Georgiana what she knew about Mr King but could not do so until they were alone. It did not do to gossip in front of the servants. The housekeeper she had discovered was called Reynolds, the butler was named Peterson and Darcy’s steward was a Mr Ingram.
‘What exactly does Mr Ingram do? My papa has no need of one.’
‘He takes care of the finances of the house and then reports to Fitzwilliam. There is an estate manager as well, but I misremember his name. I have no wish to discuss such tedious things, I have something far more exciting to impart.’
They were now curled up on a comfortable sofa in front of a roaring fire in her sitting room. The bedchamber door was firmly closed and both maids busy somewhere behind it. ‘Before you embark on your news, I wish to have all the information you know about Mr King. How is it a rector lives in such lavish circumstances? Also, why does he look more like a soldier than a man of the cloth?’
‘I can tell you what I know, but it is not much as the gentleman in question only moved into the vicinity at the beginning of the month. The previous incumbent was his uncle and a man of means, I
believe he was highly thought of in the area.’ She frowned and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘His grandfather was a nabob, and made a massive fortune with the East India Company. Therefore, even though Mr King is the youngest son, he is a wealthy man and has no need to work for a living.’
Having her speculations confirmed in this way gave Kitty pause for thought. ‘You must think me a flighty miss to be taking such an interest in a single gentleman so soon after my arrival in Derbyshire—.’
Georgiana shook her head and her dark ringlets bounced on either side of her face. ‘Indeed I do not, Kitty dearest, although I have not yet seen him myself, I understand him to be a prodigiously handsome gentleman. And you were not far wrong in your assessment, he was indeed a soldier with Wellesley in India. He attended Oxford University and obtained his degree in divinity, but originally he chose to serve his country in a different way.’
Kitty was agog, she leant forward eager to hear what had changed Mr King’s mind.
‘I believe he was sickened by the violence and loss of life and, when his uncle passed away, he resigned his commission and took holy orders.’
For someone who had professed to know very little about her handsome neighbour Georgiana was remarkably well-informed. ‘I did not like him very much, he reminded me of Mr Darcy…’ She stopped, horrified, and her hands flew to her mouth as if intending to push the words back in.
Instead of being offended by her rudeness Georgiana giggled. ‘I know exactly what you mean, although I love my brother dearly he can be rather arrogant and proud. Are you telling me that Mr King is of a similar character?’
‘He is a formidable gentleman, not at all what one would expect in one’s pulpit. At least, being a wealthy man, he will be able to alleviate the suffering of his parishioners in a way that is not normally available to a vicar. I believe a rector has access to a small estate as well as the church tithes so one would expect Mr King to donate this money to the parish poor.’ How pompous and silly she sounded – more like her older sister Mary than herself.
Georgiana jumped to her feet and grabbed Kitty’s hand. ‘Now it is my turn to tell you something. Pemberley is vast and we do not use the whole of it even when we have house guests. However, the East Wing is abandoned and nobody ever goes there.’ Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. ‘In all my life I have never ventured in, just accepted these chambers were derelict and unsafe.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘However, four weeks ago I came across a journal written more than one hundred years ago by an ancestor of mine. This girl talks of the East Wing and says her grandfather had decided to abandon it because of the ghosts.’
‘Ghosts? Do you mean Pemberley is haunted? How wonderful! Shall we be intrepid ghost hunters and uncover the truth in this story?’ Kitty was beside herself. Never in all her days had she expected to share a house with spectres. They would be like the heroines in a Gothic novel. Not that she truly believed in such nonsense. Papa had told her that those that thought they saw them owned an overactive imagination and that there was always a logical explanation for any so-called supernatural event.
‘We must not divulge our intentions to your sister or my brother or they will put a stop to it.’
‘Actually, Darcy gave me permission to go anywhere and do anything that I wished to, so long as we are together and remain within the grounds. So, we will not be breaking any rules by exploring there.’
‘There is no time today, but I am going to take you on a tour of the house and we will pass by the entrance. Although the doors to this wing are kept locked, the keys are left in full view in Fitzwilliam’s study. If we borrow them to unlock the communicating door on the nursery floor and then return them immediately, nobody will be any the wiser.’
Together they wandered through the upstairs portion of the house with Georgiana pointing out the salient points, which doors lead to the linen cupboard and which to bedchambers and sitting rooms, and so on. The family occupied the central portion of the house and the guests, when there were any, resided in the West Wing. After an hour she led Kitty up a flight of stairs to the nursery floor.
‘Good heavens! I have not been up here for years and remembered it quite differently.’ She ran forward and opened a door which led into the schoolroom. ‘I thought this room far bigger, but had forgotten how small the windows are and that they have bars across them.’
To Kitty the room seemed as extravagant as all the others she’d been shown. ‘If you were taught on your own it must indeed have seemed enormous. Our schoolroom was half the size and had to accommodate twice as many noisy girls.’
‘I should have much preferred to have been with siblings. For me, being sent away to school when I was older should have been a pleasure rather than a penance, as it was the first time I had the opportunity to make friends.’ She sniffed and rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. ‘However, Mama had just passed away and I was distraught. Arriving so miserable and withdrawn meant that I was always considered an outsider and never became friends with my peers.’
Impulsively Kitty threw her arms around her friend. ‘I am sorry for your loss and your sadness, Georgiana, but things are different now. You are a woman grown and have a plethora of sisters to be your friends.’
‘I wish that my brother considered me an adult too, both he and Lizzy tend to treat me as a schoolroom miss with no opinions or wishes of my own. I love them both dearly, but having a sister of my own age is so much better.’ She had recovered her good humour. ‘I expect that Lizzy told you how eagerly I have been anticipating your arrival.’
‘She did mention it in passing. Ever since the invitation arrived I have been in high alt – my father, for the first time that I can recall, gave me his approval. Lizzy has always been his favourite, you know, then Jane, but he has little time for the rest of us. I expect you know that my youngest sister, Lydia, ran away with Wickham. I believe she is already regretting her decision.’
For some reason her companion became subdued when she mentioned this disgraceful episode. Kitty hoped Georgiana was not shocked to find herself related, even remotely, to someone who had behaved so badly.
‘There is just time enough for me to show you the door through which we will enter the East Wing. It is at the far end of the passageway and I believe must have been used by the nursery maids once upon a time.’
‘How old is that part of Pemberley? The front of the building is obviously of recent construction; you told me that the central passageway was put down in 1610 – so that must make the East Wing even older.’ Kitty could hardly credit she was walking about in a building that had been constructed many hundreds of years ago. Longbourn was not nearly as venerable, although she believed it to have been built a hundred years ago.
Upon the subject of her ancestral home Georgiana was both knowledgeable and enthusiastic and regaled Kitty with facts and figures all the way back to their chambers. ‘I shall be wearing a white evening gown, unfortunately none of my evening gowns are coloured. However, they have embroidery, lace, beads and suchlike as well as pretty sashes of bright colours, so I cannot complain.’
‘Mama allowed me to select pastel shades, I would much prefer a vibrant green or red, but those must be left to married ladies and the demi-monde.’ Kitty had little notion who these ladies were, but was fairly sure they were not respectable. ‘I have a delightful gown in the palest yellow with a golden sash and matching slippers. Shall I wear that as it’s the closest thing I have to white?’
The matter of their ensembles having been settled to their satisfaction Georgiana all but skipped into her own apartment and Kitty into hers. She could scarcely credit that she had only been in Derbyshire for a few hours and already was embarked on an adventure.
Chapter Four
Mr King was unsurprised to be obliged to dine alone as usual. Mrs Bingley, although she now had her own garments, had politely declined his invitation saying she would have a tray with Bingley until he was well enough to join them.
Was it the ha
nd of God that had caused the accident and introduced the Darcys and Bingleys to him? Although he did not regret his decision to sell his commission and take over the stipend vacated by the death of his uncle, he had been finding life in this quiet backwater of Derbyshire rather lacking in excitement.
He had expected to be able to use his considerable wealth to alleviate the sufferings of the poor, but as far as he could see there were no such beings in his parish and he would have to go further afield to spread his largesse. Uncle Benjamin had had the same idea and his flock was well taken care of. Then his lips curved as a possible project occurred to him that would benefit everyone in the neighbourhood.
There would have been no accident this afternoon if the road had been properly repaired. He would ride to Pemberley tomorrow with news of the patient’s progress and discuss the matter with Darcy. This was a courtesy only, he had no need to ask for permission from anyone to do his duty.
Before he retired he made his way to the rear of the house and knocked on the door of the apartment in which Bingley was recovering. An unfamiliar maid answered his summons and bobbed.
‘I beg your pardon, Mr King, but Mr and Mrs Bingley have retired for the night.’
‘I have no wish to intrude, I am just here to enquire how the patient does.’
‘The master is sleeping and the sickness is abating.’
He strolled back to the drawing room but had no interest in reading The Times. He wandered restlessly around the room disliking the emptiness, the way his footsteps echoed everywhere he went in this huge house. He had spent most of his life with others – first at boarding school, then at Oxford University, and for the past five years as an officer fighting shoulder to shoulder with his comrades.
The Ghosts at Pemberley Page 3
