Postscript from Pemberley

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Darcy Gardiner, though he knew nothing of the reason for this relief, would, in the coming months, be very grateful indeed.

  There were, he believed, very good reasons for not revealing to his sister, or any other member of his family, certain matters involving a young lady of their acquaintance. Lizzie's teasing remarks about his single state, however lightly made, had caused him some disquiet, and he had been glad of his brother-in-law's discretion in helping to extricate him from the situation in which he had found himself.

  His friend, Michael Carr, was the only person who knew the truth and even he did not know the whole of it.

  Recalling with some chagrin the unhappy episode which had taken place some months ago, Darcy Gardiner could not avoid a feeling of dejection. His friend had found him then in just such a mood, when the two men had met at the inn, whither Darcy had gone to be alone and had confided in Mr Carr, having first sworn him to secrecy.

  “Michael, I must have your word that nothing of this will ever be revealed to anyone else; I should not have spoken of it even to you, except as you can see, I have been so downcast, I had need of a friend I could trust, in whom I could confide. But you must promise me the lady's name will never pass your lips. I ask it chiefly on her account, rather than my own.”

  Eager to assuage his friend's undeniable disappointment, Mr Carr had promptly obliged, promising secrecy even as he wondered at the depth of young Darcy's attachment to the lady in question. He did not know her very well, but from the extent of their short acquaintance, he would not have judged that she was the type of person likely to attract the romantic interest of his brother-in-law.

  There was, however, no doubting Darcy's distress at being rejected by her, and Mr Carr had listened very attentively and sought to ameliorate his condition with encouraging words and the suggestion that the young lady may perhaps be persuaded to reconsider her refusal of his offer, if applied to again at a later, more appropriate time.

  But Darcy had been quite adamant. “No, Michael, she will not. I cannot say more for fear of compromising her, but she has assured me that she cannot change her mind, because her heart is already given to another. So you see, it is quite hopeless.”

  Which is all he was prepared to tell Mr Carr, and having begged him once more never to reveal his secret, he had departed and taken himself home in an extraordinary state of despondency.

  COMING AWAY FROM RUSHMORE Farm, with the setting sun filling the meadows with pools of light and shadow, Darcy Gardiner could not avoid reliving that unhappy episode. His sister's teasing words had brought it back to the surface, and he recalled it as if it had been yesterday.

  It had been an evening very much like this one, some weeks after his sister Lizzie's wedding. The couple had not as yet returned from their wedding journey and Darcy had been busy, keeping a promise to his brother-in-law that he would watch over the management of the Rushmore Farm and Stud in their absence.

  Returning to Pemberley, having spent the afternoon at the farm, he had surrendered his horse to the groom who had accompanied him to Rushmore Farm. It had been a particularly fine day, and Darcy had decided to take a walk through the park to Pemberley, not expecting to meet anyone else there at that hour.

  It was already late afternoon and the sun was warm upon his back as he traversed the woods, alive with birdsong and filled with the scents of Spring. The very day, he thought, for a quiet walk during which he could think upon some aspects of his future life. Recently, he had begun to think about matters other than politics and the fortunes of Mr Gladstone, which had rated very high on his list of priorities the previous year.

  As manager of the Pemberley estate, he had been successful, at least in satisfying the concerns of their tenants and, more importantly, pleasing his grandfather Mr Darcy, who was a very meticulous employer. It was a source of some satisfaction to him that his grandfather had accepted his advice on matters affecting the diversification of crops on the estate, which had proved to be quite profitable.

  As he strode along the path winding through the great trees arching overhead, he heard the voices of young women, two at least, and they seemed to be approaching. He slowed his steps as they came nearer and then realised it was Jessica Courtney and another young person—Nellie, eldest of the rector's daughters.

  They seemed to be in very good humour, and Jessica appeared especially happy; he heard her laugh ring out as they crossed the footbridge and entered the park. She had a pretty, infectious laugh, which always made him smile. They walked towards him, then, seeing him, they stopped.

  Jessica spoke first, “Why, Darcy, what a surprise. I had understood that you were away today at Rushmore Farm.”

  He explained that he had been at the farm in the absence of his brother-in-law Mr Carr. “Finding everything in order, I decided to return earlier than expected.”

  “Did you walk all the way from Rushmore?” she asked, and he explained again, “No, I rode over, but it is such a beautiful day, I could not resist the prospect of a walk through the park.”

  Jessica agreed, “Nellie and I were saying much the same thing; it has been wonderful weather,” and he noticed as she spoke how her eyes shone and the sun on her skin made it glow. She was wearing a new gown of fine soft cotton in a pretty peach colour, which enhanced her complexion, and he could not take his eyes off her.

  Striving to be polite and natural, he asked, “And are you ladies going to Pemberley, too?” to which Jessica replied, “I am, but Nellie is returning to the rectory. We have been to the hospital at Littleford to see a patient—one of the boys at the school had a nasty fall and cut his knee,” she explained.

  Darcy was solicitous. “I am sorry; he is on the mend, I hope? No broken bones?”

  “No, none, but he is bruised and shaken by his unhappy experience and feeling very sore. I doubt he will attempt to climb upon the roof of the church again!” she replied, and they laughed together.

  They had reached a fork in the road, where Nellie said good-bye and took the path, which led to the rectory, leaving them to walk on towards Pemberley. Engaged in the usual casual exchanges about one thing and another, they had not gone far and were passing through a grove of elms, which sheltered them from the sun and concealed their presence from anyone at the house looking out across the park.

  Jessica had been recounting for Darcy's entertainment a story about Mr Hurst, the new schoolmaster, and one of the students. A young boy from Lambton, having learnt of the work of Charles Darwin, had told his father about his great voyage to the Galapagos Islands.

  “And Mr Hurst was horrified to discover that the boy's father had threatened to beat him if he ever mentioned Mr Darwin in the house again, 'because he were an evil Godless man and taught that us and the monkeys is brothers, sir!'” she had said, mimicking the little boy's voice.

  Darcy could not help but laugh with her, and Jessica was still laughing, about to continue with her story, when suddenly, unaccountably, he had stopped and turning to her said, “Dearest Jessica, I should like very much to say something, which I want you to hear, and I must beg you to listen, please.”

  Her astonishment had been plain to see, as she looked at him in some confusion, unable at first to understand the import of his words, unwilling perhaps to believe what must surely have been obvious—that Darcy Gardiner was about to propose to her in the middle of Pemberley Park. She said not a word, standing quite still, too surprised to speak.

  He had reached for her hand, begged her pardon for surprising her in this manner, and then, in the clearest way possible, declared that he loved her dearly and asked if she would agree to marry him.

  Jessica's initial surprise had by now turned to complete amazement.

  “Darcy,” she had said, “please forgive me, I do not at all mean to sound facetious, but is this not a little sudden? We have known one another all our lives and been friends for years, but never before have you hinted or shown in any way at all a particular partiality for me. I do not mean to sugg
est that I am not honoured by your proposal, but may I ask, please, what has brought you to this sudden declaration?”

  Except to reiterate in even more ardent terms his love for her, Darcy gave no reason for the suddenness of his approach.

  He was still holding her hand, and as they stood there amongst the trees in dappled sunlight, he looked startlingly handsome and yet uncertain and vulnerable. Jessica wondered at his impetuousness. She could not understand it. It was not like him at all. Even though she had always enjoyed the openness and energy that marked all his dealings, rashness had not been a character trait she had associated with him. She liked him and had no wish to hurt him. She was puzzled and not a little troubled by this development and wished with all her heart it had not occurred.

  Darcy Gardiner was without doubt a most eligible young man and one of the most agreeable of her acquaintance. That she could not deny. In other circumstances, there was no knowing if she may have been persuaded to consider his proposal more favourably. But, on that perfect spring day, Jessica was in no state to consider the advances of any gentleman, no matter how eligible or agreeable he may be. Although he could not have known it, Darcy had probably picked the very worst day of all to propose to Jessica.

  On that morning, the post had brought her a letter from Julian Darcy. Sent from London, shortly before embarking for France, it had so lifted her spirits and enhanced her hopes, that marriage to any other man was the last thing she could contemplate. Indeed, she had carried it with her all day and could scarcely wait to get home and read it again.

  Julian's handwriting, not very elegant at the best of times, was difficult to read. He had plainly written the letter in haste, prior to his departure for France. Yet, even this was to Jessica an advantage, since it gave her a good reason to linger over each line and read it over again, more carefully than before, savouring every one for the sentiments it conveyed.

  He wrote:

  Dearest Jessica,

  It would be quite useless for me to pretend that I could leave England for France and proceed to Africa thereafter, without telling you how I feel. If I did, I should neither sleep nor concentrate upon my work over the next few months.

  I do not know, because I was too afraid to ask, if you had been sensible of my growing fondness for you and if you were aware that your friendship meant so much to me. I hoped you had, for had you appeared indifferent, my spirits would have been low indeed.

  “Oh yes,” she said softly, “but I thought that was all it was. I too was afraid even to think there was more than simple friendship between us.”

  I should have spoken sooner, whilst we were together at Pemberley, except that it would not have been seemly. I think both our families may have looked askance at any proposition that seemed to come too soon after Josie's tragic death, and I am almost certain it would not have made you happy either.

  I shall not be other than honest with you, Jessica; so let me admit that I did try, on first becoming aware of my feelings for you, to suppress them, to tell myself you would not care for someone like me, that I was too old or too dull for you, and then, when it seemed you might, I tried to explain it away as the natural affection between two people who had known one another since childhood and had become good friends.

  But, increasingly, I have come to the realisation that in truth I love you dearly, Jessica, and must acknowledge it before I leave for France tomorrow morning.

  At this admission, Jessica had been unable to read further, as tears of joy had filled her eyes and she had to put the letter away until she could compose herself. When she did so and read on, there was more to delight her.

  I hope, my dearest Jessica, that I am not being presumptuous in believing that those tender affections I have detected are similar to mine and will allow you to accept and return my love.

  I leave for France tomorrow and thence to Africa within the fortnight. If all goes well with our journey and our plans are accomplished and I return safe to England as I hope and pray I will…

  (at which Jessica stopped reading and closed her eyes to add her prayers to his)

  …I shall, on my return to Pemberley, ask you to be my wife.

  If you accept, it will make me happier than I have been in all my life so far, and I shall promise to do everything I can to ensure your continuing happiness for as long as I live, including the fulfillment of those very special dreams we spoke of recently.

  Meanwhile, may I ask that you keep our secret, for I should prefer that it did not become the subject of gossip between our families and friends.

  Only send me word—just a line or two will suffice to set my heart at rest—that I do not hope in vain.

  I shall count the days and months until we meet.

  Till then, God bless you,

  Julian Darcy.

  And below he had given her the address in Paris to which she could send a letter. He expected to remain there a fortnight, before leaving for Africa.

  Throughout the morning, which Jessica had spent at the school and later with Nellie, visiting the boy at Littleford hospital, the letter had lain in the pocket of her gown as she went about her work.

  From time to time, she would touch it as if it were a talisman, and when she had a moment to spare and was certain she would be undisturbed, she had taken it out and perused it again, to renew the joy she had felt on receiving and reading it.

  As she and Nellie had made their way home that afternoon, she had looked forward to the moment when she could go to her room and read it once more, enjoying in private the pleasure it gave her, before composing the reply Julian was waiting for. Walking through the park, she had hardly heard Nellie's chatter; she had been busy fashioning in her mind the lines she intended to write.

  “Only send me word,” he had said, and she had intended to do just that, as soon as she had returned to Pemberley and could put pen to paper.

  She had hoped it would tell him what he wished to know, and she had decided she would send it by express on the following morning.

  She had been pre-occupied also with the vexing problem of getting it to the mail without the servants at Pemberley seeing the address, when suddenly, Darcy Gardiner had appeared on the path in front of them.

  At first, she had wanted only to be rid of him, wishing above all to get back to Pemberley and write her letter. She feared that a delay may mean that her letter may not reach Julian before he left Paris and he would go to Africa, believing that she cared nothing for him. It was therefore with some degree of impatience that she had first responded to his totally unexpected proposition.

  But Jessica was nothing if she was not tender-hearted. When she had said, “Darcy, you are very kind and I thank you for your proposal, but I cannot marry you,” she saw the pain upon his face, and when he asked, “Why, Jessica, may I ask for a reason? Have we not always been friends?” his eyes had betrayed the sense of shock and confusion he obviously felt at her rejection. Clearly he had not expected this response.

  Jessica, unhappy to cause him so much hurt, had struggled to explain. “We certainly have been good friends, and I have only warm and affectionate feelings for you. It is not that I do not respect and admire you, Darcy, but oh dear, this is too difficult for me… I do not wish to mislead you, yet I am not free to tell you the reason… in any detail…” she concluded rather lamely, and he was utterly perplexed.

  “Not free? Jessica, what does this mean? Could it be… Have I understood you correctly? Are you secretly engaged to someone else? If that were the case, I should not press you, it would not be right or fair…”

  He was clearly taken aback, yet she surprised him even more, when she replied, “No, Darcy, I am not secretly engaged, but you are right; there is someone else I love, and while there is no engagement at present, there is a possibility, indeed a very strong possibility, that we may be engaged in the future.”

  Darcy had stepped back to look at her as she spoke. If he had been surprised at being rejected and astonished to hear there was
someone else she loved of whom he knew nothing, he was truly perturbed to hear her say there was no engagement, yet she had hopes of one eventuating in the future.

  He had seen and heard of too many such situations to be sanguine about it. He had known of young women who had waited years for some man, who had promised to marry them and never returned to keep his promise. He was deeply concerned lest Jessica had fallen in love with some such heartless blackguard, though he could not recall anyone of their acquaintance who might fit the role.

  When he spoke, he tried hard not to sound pompous and self-important. Rather it was with sincere concern that he asked, “And if you cannot tell me who he is, will you at least say if he is from the district or does he come from Derby or London?”

  Jessica seemed a little unsettled by the question, causing him to say, “Forgive me, Jessica; I ask not out of idle curiosity, but only because I have heard of young ladies who have been deceived by fellows—London toffs— who never intended to keep their word. I am sure you would not fall in love with such a man, yet I am concerned…”

  She interrupted him, but spoke gently, “You are right, Darcy. I would not fall in love with such a person. This man is no London toff, I assure you. However, I am conscious of the kindness that prompts your concern for me, so although it is not my secret alone, I shall tell you, to set your mind at rest. He is your uncle, Mr Julian Darcy.”

  Then seeing the look of complete amazement upon his face, she continued, “There, I should not have revealed his name, but I had to say it, else you would have been convinced that I was about to do something stupid and perhaps told your mama, and she would have told cousin Lizzie, and there would have been a great to-do over it. I hope now that you know the truth, you will be satisfied that I am not about to throw myself into the power of some perfidious scoundrel!”