Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  What followed surprised them all. Mr Grimes, authorised by his client Mr Bennet, confirmed that Mr Bennet was changing his will in relation to the disposal of the Longbourn Estate, which had reverted to him with the death of Mr Collins, who would have been the inheritor under the entail. Hitherto, this property had been willed to his daughter Mary, with life interest to his wife. But the untimely death of Mrs Bennet had necessitated a change, Mr Grimes explained. While there would be no change in the disposition of any monies which were to be divided among his daughters, Longbourn would be left to his grandson, Jonathan Bingley, with life interest to his daughter, Miss Mary Bennet, for as long as she remained single. Should she choose to use a part of the property to conduct her music teaching, she was welcome to do so. Jonathan on his eighteenth birthday would take over the management of the Longbourn Estate, and later, it would be his to do with as he saw fit—rent, lease, or occupy.

  When Mr Grimes had finished speaking, Mr Bennet had something to say, too. He had wanted to be fair, he said, because all his daughters were married except Mary. They had husbands and homes, where she had none save Longbourn, which had very nearly not been theirs at all. But, since Fate had decreed that it was to remain in his hands, he had disposed of it in the fairest way possible. He had chosen his grandson Jonathan to manage and ultimately inherit the property, because Jonathan was the son of his eldest daughter, he added mischievously.

  Elizabeth and Darcy could barely conceal their delight, but young Jonathan was truly amazed. He appeared to be unsure whether he was ready for the responsibility the inheritance would place upon him. He admitted he had a great deal to learn. But his grandfather reminded him gently that he did not need to worry just yet. Putting an arm around Jonathan’s shoulders, he reassured him, “You can take your time learning, young man; I intend to be around for a while yet. But I am sure when the time comes, you will do us all proud.”

  Mary, not usually given to emotional displays, wept with happiness as Jonathan assured her that she would always be looked after and if she needed any help with establishing her music school, he would do whatever he could. Elizabeth saw in his gentle words the same generosity and kindness that had always set his mother apart.

  For Mary, the dreadful prospect of being a housekeeper for her sister Lydia’s family had held only terror. Now, as the unpleasant vision receded and she could see her future more clearly, she was truly grateful. She embraced her sisters and thanked her father, promising that as long as he needed her, she would be at Longbourn to look after him. It was the kind of family occasion for which Elizabeth was singularly unprepared. Her family had engendered few strong relationships or deep loyalties, except that which had always existed between her sister Jane and herself.

  Frequently, she had suffered mortification at similar family gatherings, as the vulgarity and ignorance of her mother, her Aunt Phillips, or Lydia had been exposed to scrutiny. But, this time, she felt real pleasure at being there to witness the restoration of a sense of responsibility and fairness among them. She was happy that her father had demonstrated good judgement and common sense and pleased with her younger sisters’ concern for each other. She was especially proud of her nephew Jonathan and wished his parents had been present on this occasion.

  That Darcy was with her was a matter of particular satisfaction to Elizabeth. Although it was a subject they had promised never to mention, since his ill-advised proposal at Hunsford and the letter that had followed her rejection of it, Elizabeth had in the past been embarrassed by members of her family in his presence. This time, she was immensely proud of them.

  Since Mr Gardiner had business in London and Jonathan was also returning to the city, Darcy and Elizabeth decided that they would spend a few days there before returning to Pemberley. It had been a long while since Elizabeth had spent time in London. She had grown so contented with her surroundings in Derbyshire and the convenience of having all her favourite family members within an easy distance from her, that she saw no reason to travel to London, unless there was something very particular to attract her there. Her increased interest in the running of the house and the estate gave her much to do, and she never missed the bustle and glitter of the city. She did, however, enjoy the great wealth of music and theatre available there and indulged her passion for them whenever they were in London.

  The Continis, who continued to be firm friends, sometimes made up a party with Georgiana and Francis Grantley, and on these occasions, Darcy and Elizabeth would join them for dinner and an evening at the theatre or at one of the popular concerts by famous musicians from Europe. If Parliament was sitting and Fitzwilliam was speaking on a matter of significance, he would invite them to come in and hear him. Caroline faithfully attended and would urge her mother and Elizabeth to accompany her. Despite her lack of enthusiasm for politics, Elizabeth could not resist the pleadings of her young cousin.

  This time, the Fitzwilliams were in London celebrating the passage of two momentous bills that the colonel predicted would change the face of Britain and Europe. The first abolished slavery in all British territories, ending the vile trade in human beings that had enriched many and brought misery to millions more. The second, the measure promised by Lord Althorp, when the Whigs won their great victory in 1830, was the Factory Act, which placed limits on the hours that could be worked by women and children and began for the very first time a process of factory inspections, by which the government could enforce the law on behalf of the workers it sought to protect.

  Fitzwilliam and Caroline, who had campaigned for both reforms, were ecstatic, particularly because it set Britain apart in Europe. When they dined together at the Darcys’ house in Portman Square, Elizabeth took the opportunity to acquaint them with recent developments in the family, including the latest news from Longbourn. As they gathered in the drawing room after dinner, young Jonathan received congratulations and some teasing about becoming the squire of Longbourn, a title he was loathe to acknowledge. “I have no intention of thinking about it,” he declared, “since my grandfather is in extremely good health and the Longbourn Estate is unlikely to require a new squire for many years yet. But, I shall be spending a great deal of time learning to manage the place well.”

  Darcy and Fitzwilliam expressed their confidence in his ability to do just that, pointing out that he had already learned much from his father, who was doing an excellent job at Ashford Park.

  Elizabeth,writing to her sister, could not fail to mention her favourite nephew:

  Dear Jane,

  If I had one regret, it was that you and Bingley were not present to witness the graciousness and kindness of your son. Papa was so very proud and spoke with great affection of his grandson. All present were agreed that Jonathan acquitted himself with distinction, showing a degree of maturity quite unexpected in one so young. Dear Jane, you would have been very pleased with your boy. I know I do not need to say this to you, dear Jane, but both Darcy and I are delighted that Jonathan is to become Papa’s manager and will ultimately inherit Longbourn. Kitty and I are agreed that no better person can be trusted to look after it than Jonathan. His assurances to Papa and Mary were so sincere, they brought tears to their eyes, and even I, unsentimental as I am, could not deny that I was moved. There are not many young men in society today, who feel so deeply for those older and less fortunate than themselves . . .

  Apart from this genuinely happy circumstance, I am able to report also, that the Wickhams have been thoroughly routed and their impertinent plans lie in tatters. Papa, on hearing the merest whisper of it from Mary and Kitty, had immediately set Mr Grimes to work to prevent such a catastrophe from occurring. Darcy and Uncle Gardiner are of the opinion that Papa had been considering the disposition of the Longbourn Estate ever since the death of poor Mr Collins but had not wanted to upset Mama by changing his will while she was still alive. Her sudden death and the Wickhams’ unseemly haste in declaring their intentions had obviously brought about a swifter response. I confess I may be prejud
iced in my judgement, but when we met at Mama’s funeral, I did not find young Henry Wickham an attractive or likeable young man, and I am thoroughly pleased that he is not to play any role in the future of Longbourn. He has too much of his father’s swagger and very little of his ability to please, which if you recall was the quality that originally promoted him in our own estimation, when he appeared in Meryton all those years ago. Perhaps this is a good thing, in that Henry will have less ability to dissemble, lacking the smooth manner which had so many people, and I include myself, sorely deceived by his father.

  To pleasanter subjects now, dear Jane, Papa and Mary will join us at Christmas as will Georgiana and Dr Grantley. We are eager to see you and Bingley and the children. Charlotte and the girls will be with us too, so we shall have many opportunities for really good long talks together, and there is so much to talk about. I am looking forward to it.

  Your loving sister,

  Lizzie.

  Returning to Pemberley was always, for Elizabeth, a moment to look forward to. As the carriage reached the point where the road, emerging from the surrounding woods, provided a most compelling view of the handsome stone building that was now her home, she unfailingly caught her breath at the beauty of the prospect. Adding to its natural attractions, was the felicity of her life within it—the peace that it brought her in an era of national ferment, the gentle care and loyalty she received from the staff, her own family—the happiness she had found with Darcy and their two beloved children. Pemberley had become a symbol of all this. Even now, in the midst of Winter, it was her warm and secure home.

  Alighting from the carriage, Elizabeth looked around and was surprised not to find Emily or Cassandra anywhere in sight. Untroubled, but mildly curious, she asked after them. Mrs Reynolds’ face had not betrayed her anxiety, but when she spoke, her voice trembled. “I would have told you when you had come indoors, Ma’am. There has been a nasty accident in the valley; a coach has gone off the road into a gully near Kympton, and many people are said to be injured. Miss Gardiner and Miss Cassandra have gone to help. They’ve taken Jenny and a couple of the men with them,” she said, and despite her best efforts, could not hold back her tears.

  Elizabeth went indoors immediately and asked for more information. Darcy had already spoken with the stable hands who had first heard the news. One of them had witnessed the accident and had ridden over to Lambton to get help. “Could you see who they were?” Darcy asked, and the lad replied that they were obviously travellers from outside the district, unfamiliar with the hazards on the roads around here.

  “There was ice and slush on the road, Sir. The wheels must have skidded as they came around the big bend above the gully.”Within half an hour, Elizabeth and Darcy had set off with a couple more men and emergency supplies, to see if anything more could be done to help. They arrived at the church hall at Kympton to find it buzzing with activity. Clearly, most of the passengers who had been rescued had been brought into the church, out of the cold, where they were being plied with hot drinks, while their less fortunate fellow travellers, who had suffered injuries, had been carried into the vestry, where to her surprise Elizabeth found Richard Gardiner and Paul Antoine tending the wounded, with Emily, Cassandra, and Jenny in attendance. The Gardiners were there with blankets, bandages, and tea, or something a little stronger for those who had need of it. Mercifully, no one had been killed, but several of the children had suffered bruising and were now very cold indeed. The rest of the afternoon was spent transporting the wounded to the district hospital, several miles away.

  As it grew dark and the threat of sleet or worse became imminent, Darcy decided that the seven remaining travellers could not be allowed to spend the night in the draughty church hall. Some of them would probably need further treatment. Having consulted Richard and Elizabeth, he sent a message to Pemberley to have beds prepared in the old nursery wing, for those who would be brought in, as well as food for the travellers and others who had helped, working in the cold all afternoon.

  Richard, who had been working without rest for several hours, was delighted that his patients would soon have hot food and warm beds. He was, however, rather more concerned about his loyal assistant, Paul Antoine. Emily had noticed that Paul had been running back and forth from the church hall to fetch and carry and help Richard as he struggled to treat the wounded and calm those who were panicstricken. In spite of his warm clothes, he looked cold but seemed not to notice. When she stopped him with a bowl of hot soup, he had thanked her profusely, but having only taken a couple of mouthfuls, he had rushed away to attend to a frightened child. Richard sought out Elizabeth and confided that he was worried about Paul and asked if she could take him back to Pemberley with her. Elizabeth agreed at once.

  It was late and very cold when the last of the travellers had been transported to Pemberley, where rooms, beds, blankets, hot water, and food had all been made ready for them. The men and women and a couple of young children had no idea who their benefactors were, but they were grateful indeed for this timely succour. Had they not been promptly rescued and sheltered, they may well have caught their deaths of exposure. As it happened, Richard, who quite by chance had been at his mother’s house in Lambton, had been called by Darcy’s man, and his prompt attention had probably saved their lives.

  That night, exhausted, but well-pleased with his work, he used the opportunity to broach the subject of a cottage hospital for the area with Darcy. “It is of no use to expect either the government or the council to do anything. The only hospital is many miles away, and as you can see, in a real emergency, the victim could die before he gets there. It was just by chance that I was here to help them,” he said. Darcy was interested. He had always believed that a community needed hospitals, schools, libraries, and similar facilities situated locally. They were the heart of any society. The success of the infant schools at Pemberley and Kympton had proved him right. He promised to talk to the other landowners in the area, especially Sir Thomas Camden, and give Richard an answer by Christmas.

  “There is one problem,” said Darcy, “we would need a doctor resident in the area, would we not?” He was pleasantly surprised when Richard said, “Build us a hospital; you shall have a resident physician, I promise.”

  “Do you mean you would move from Birmingham?”

  “Indeed, I would, sir,” said Richard, surprising and delighting his mother, “I went to Birmingham because they needed a doctor. There was work for me there. They have a district hospital at which I work, on two days a week, as well as running a very busy practice. If I had as much work here, I would gladly move.”

  “That,” said Darcy, “sounds very much like an offer I cannot possibly refuse. If I can get Camden to agree, I might hold you to that promise.”

  Emily came in to say that Paul had a high fever and should be sent to bed. Richard rose immediately and followed her upstairs, while Elizabeth, who longed to ask her aunt many questions, remained silent. When Richard returned, his face was very grave. “Paul is very ill. He must not be moved. Cousin Lizzie, may I stay overnight? I am very reluctant to leave him like this.”

  “Richard, of course you must stay. In any event, some of the travellers may need your help too; think nothing of it. Darcy can lend you some clothes. Meanwhile, is there anything we can do for Paul?” Elizabeth asked, eager to help. Richard shook his head.

  “No, it is mostly exhaustion from working all afternoon in the cold. He is not very strong.” Emily appeared very troubled too, but Elizabeth noticed that her brother spoke softly to her for a while, and she seemed to be calmer thereafter.

  Fortunately, the following week brought clearer if not exactly warmer weather, and all of the travellers who had suffered mainly bruising and exposure recovered and were able to return to Matlock and resume their interrupted journey.

  Paul Antoine, however, remained at Pemberley on the orders of his friend and physician. Emily seemed to take great pleasure in his company and in carrying out all the strict instruc
tions her brother left for the care of his patient. Paul himself was the most undemanding of patients, always being grateful for the care that was lavished on him and appearing to improve with each passing day. Emily was sure that the warmth, comfort, and good food at Pemberley were hastening his recovery. Elizabeth was even more certain that the identity of the carer had as much to do with Paul’s progress as the care he received.

  During the time he spent at Pemberley, Elizabeth discovered the particular charm of this unassuming, gentle, young Frenchman. She could, by observing Emily and Paul together, see how much they enjoyed each other’s company, but she could not say with any certainty that there was a deeper level of affection between them. Emily’s commitment to ensuring that Paul recovered from his illness and was assisted to become stronger and healthier was paramount. Try as she might, Elizabeth could find no evidence of a romantic attachment at all. It left her even more bewildered, and she was determined to seek some explanation.

  It would soon be Christmas, and for all the good fortune they had enjoyed, it did not look as if the family would have as enjoyable a celebration this year as before. Though no one had been killed in the coach accident on the Matlock road, it had frightened a great many folk, and there was a general lack of merriment around.

  When the families gathered on Christmas Eve, three of the children in the choir failed to arrive, being suddenly taken ill with croup. It was a bitter blow to Cassandra, who had taken over organising the children’s party from Georgiana. Elizabeth was disappointed but, despite this, determined that they would enjoy their Christmas together. At least, they were not snowed in, as they had been a few years ago. Pemberley was a large house, but it had been well-designed for comfort in all types of weather. It was not difficult to engender a warm and cheerful atmosphere for the festivities on Christmas Eve and the days that followed, and the families as they gathered filled the house with laughter.