Postscript from Pemberley

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Darcy had been silent, still unable to comprehend how this had come about. The surprise had temporarily blotted out his own disappointment and uncharacteristically, he had been lost for words.

  Finally, he stammered, “Jessica, what can I say? I knew nothing of this, else I should not have dreamed of imposing myself upon you. I am truly sorry if I have offended or embarrassed you…”

  Her compassionate heart would not let him take the blame. Placing her hand upon his arm, she said, “Darcy, please do not apologise—you did nothing wrong and I am not offended. You were not to know and there was not the slightest trace of presumption or arrogance in your approach to me. Indeed, I am not unconscious of the honour and I thank you again for your offer, but I hope you will understand when I say that Julian and I have been falling in love over the last few months. It came upon us so gradually, we scarcely knew it ourselves, until a few days ago, when he was preparing to leave.

  “For myself, I can truly say I have not felt such a strong attachment for anyone in my life. It will be obvious to you that after the dire circumstances of last year, we could not let it be generally known now, at least not for a few more months. I have received a letter from him today, in which he declares his feelings and the hope that we may be engaged when he returns from Africa.”

  She smiled then and said in a lighter tone, “There, you are the very first to know. I have told no one else our secret.”

  At this, young Darcy Gardiner, despite his disappointment, could only offer his heartfelt congratulations and wish them every happiness.

  Jessica then extracted from him a solemn promise that he would tell no one until Julian returned and their engagement was revealed to the family.

  “It would preserve us from the gossip and rumour which will start should even the smallest hint of it be known. Please keep our secret as I will keep yours. No one shall ever know of our conversation this afternoon, not even Julian, I promise. We have been friends for long enough to keep each other's secrets, have we not?” she asked, and he was adamant that no one should ever learn of her secret from him.

  “Indeed, and you may be assured of my absolute secrecy. But let me be the first to wish you and Julian the deepest and most lasting happiness. I know no two people more deserving of it,” he said, his voice decidedly lighter than his heart.

  As they reached the entrance to Pemberley House, they noticed that the Bingleys' carriage was standing in the drive, and Jessica remembered that Jonathan Bingley and his wife, Anna, were visiting his parents, and the entire party were dining at Pemberley that evening.

  Turning to Darcy, she said in a whisper, “I have a letter to write that must go tomorrow morning. Will you be so kind as to make my excuses and tell Mrs Darcy I shall join them at dinner?”

  So saying, she slipped away through the rose garden and up the steps leading to the private apartments, leaving him to enter the saloon and make her excuses to Elizabeth, before making his own excuses and withdrawing to dress for dinner.

  The presence of Jonathan and Anna Bingley greatly eased the strain upon Darcy Gardiner and Jessica that evening. While Anna Bingley and Elizabeth had a great deal to talk about, Jessica obliged the party with some music on the pianoforte. She had, while Julian was staying at Pemberley, played for him often and enjoyed reliving the pleasure of those times, playing the same compositions he had chosen for her.

  There was a special delight in knowing that no one, other than Darcy of course, knew her secret. Unlike many others, being a rather solitary young woman, Jessica suffered no loss by not sharing her happiness with a confidante. Indeed, her greatest pleasure was in contemplating it alone.

  As for Darcy, he was glad indeed to have Jonathan Bingley beside him at dinner, and afterwards the two men continued their discussion of the political landscape. Jonathan, whose interest in politics had survived his resignation from the Commons, thanks largely to the involvement of his brother-in-law, James Wilson, had some interesting news.

  “It would seem, Darcy, that Disraeli and Lord Derby are planning to outfox Mr Gladstone and the Whigs again. Having defeated Lord Russell's reforms, this time, they mean to bring a reform bill of their own making into the Parliament when it next meets, and having got it through, with the support of a motley coalition of members, they intend to claim the credit for reforming the system.”

  Darcy expressed his disgust at the news. “What? I had heard from friends at Westminster that Derby was talking of 'dishing the Whigs,' but I did not take it seriously. I am appalled to hear that they propose to bring down a Reform Bill of their own. They do not have their hearts in it. What sort of reforms would they propose? Who would support them?”

  Jonathan was older and took a calmer but no less critical view of the cynicism of Disraeli, a politician whose word he had never trusted.

  “Oh, no doubt they will cobble together something, anything, so long as they can claim credit for it. It is an unprincipled political stratagem but a clever one, you must admit; Disraeli has proved he can run rings around Gladstone,” he said, and poor Darcy was well nigh incoherent with anger.

  “But they do not believe in the reforms at all. It is opportunism at its worst—” he raged, and Jonathan agreed, though adding with some humour, “It certainly is that, Darcy, I grant you, but it is partly built upon the failure of Russell and Gladstone to use the opportunity they had last year to convince their party to pass their bill. They must bear some of the blame. I do not believe that Lord Derby will last long as PM—mark my words, Disraeli will lead the Tories before long.”

  Darcy was outraged at the prospect. “And become Prime Minister?”

  “Indeed,” said Jonathan, with some genuine distaste for the proposition, “and unless Mr Gladstone is very careful, he may find he has missed his chance altogether.”

  Darcy shook his head in disbelief. He was glad now that he had postponed his political ambitions and accepted the job as manager of the Pemberley estate.

  “It will not be much fun being at Westminster while Mr Gladstone and the Whigs languish in opposition and Disraeli occupies the treasury benches and struts the political stage,” he said, unable to hide his dismay.

  Jonathan agreed; though he was out of it now, he could appreciate Darcy's disappointment.

  Presently, Anna Bingley came to urge the gentlemen to join the ladies around the pianoforte, where she hoped to involve them in some entertainment. “Jessica will play for us, and if you gentlemen will support me, I may even be persuaded to sing,” she said, and, turning to Darcy, invited him to join her in a duet. He went, even though he did not feel like singing. It had been a very trying day and he was glad indeed of the light relief.

  The rest of the company enjoyed the performance, especially the ladies, who had grown bored with the political discussion. Elizabeth was heard to draw her sister Jane's attention to the very becoming glow upon Jessica's countenance.

  “Doesn't Jessica look particularly lovely tonight, Jane?” she asked. Jane agreed that Jessica did, and both her husband and Mr Darcy, when asked for an opinion, agreed with their wives that young Miss Courtney was looking remarkably well. They thought the colour of her gown must have something to do with it, or the mellow lighting in the room.

  But none of them could guess the real reason for her well-being.

  On the morrow, Darcy Gardiner had risen early and made his way to the stables, hoping to ride out before the rest of the household was about.

  His head still filled with the disappointments of the previous day, he had hoped to enjoy a solitary gallop to the crest of the hill. As he urged his horse out of the paddock and along the road leading from the park, he came upon Jessica, in cape and bonnet, walking briskly down the road that led to the village of Lambton.

  Dismounting, he greeted her and asked, a little awkwardly, what had brought her out so early. At first, she was reluctant to say anything, pretending she was out for a walk in the fresh morning air, but then, perhaps seeing his sceptical expression, she r
elented and confessed that she was on her way to Lambton, from where she hoped to send a letter by express to London and thence to Julian in Paris.

  “And you plan to walk the five miles to Lambton?” he asked, astonished, and when she nodded and said, “I have no other means to despatch it without arousing the inevitable interest and gossip that will arise as soon as it is seen by one of the servants at Pemberley. I have told my maid that I am going to visit my grandmother and that is all.”

  Darcy had looked at her and said in a quiet voice, “It will take you half the day to walk to Lambton and back, and you will be exhausted. What's more, they will all wonder what has become of you and send out a search party! Will you not let me take it for you? I could direct it to Julian as though it were a business matter, and no one would be any the wiser.”

  Jessica had been surprised; it was the very last thing she had expected. She could never have asked him herself.

  “Would you?” she had asked, almost in disbelief, whereupon he had smiled and said, “Why would I not, Jessica? If you will entrust your letter to me, I should be happy to despatch it for you. I can be there and back before they finish breakfast and no one will know about your letter.” She had handed him the letter and, reaching up, kissed him on the cheek and said, “Dear Darcy, thank you. I shall not forget your kindness. You are truly a good friend.”

  She stopped and, as he was about to mount his horse, began again rather clumsily, “Darcy, there is something else… about yesterday… I am very sorry if I seemed ungrateful… I did not mean to be unkind or unfeeling, but I was truly surprised… I had no idea…” She had tried to say something to help him understand, but he touched a finger to her lips.

  “You are not to blame, Jessica; you have nothing to regret. I am sorry too, only for myself, because I love you, but I am happy as well for you and Julian. I pray you will both enjoy all the happiness you deserve.”

  And putting the letter away in the inside pocket of his jacket, Darcy had mounted his horse, waved good-bye, and ridden on, leaving Jessica to retrace her steps and return to Pemberley, in time to join the rest of the family at breakfast.

  Later, Darcy told Michael Carr, recounting his impetuous proposal, “I cannot explain it, Michael; it all came upon me very suddenly; it was an irresistible impulse… I have long admired her and enjoyed her company; we are cousins and good friends, but I have never thought of her as I did at that moment.

  “It is impossible to give you a reasoned account of my behaviour; I have not been able to explain it even to myself. Perhaps it was how she looked; she had a glow about her and a look of such serenity and joy, which, at that moment, convinced me she was the girl with whom I could spend the rest of my life!”

  Noting his friend's rather condescending smile, Darcy looked a little sheepish and added, “It's all very well for you to smile, Michael; you are a happily married man. I confess I feel a little foolish—but she was very kind and ladylike, as she always is; she listened to me, and when I had finished, said in a very gentle voice, 'Dear Darcy, I am very fond of you and honoured that you should ask me, but I cannot marry you.'”

  “And did she give you a reason? One you could accept without bitterness?” his friend enquired, and Darcy nodded sadly.

  “Indeed she did, the only reason against which there can be no argument. She told me her feelings were already engaged. She is in love with another man, Michael, and while I can never break a confidence and tell you his name, I am able to say that he is a man well worthy of her!”

  Michael Carr was sincerely sorry for his friend. Darcy Gardiner was the sort of young man who could have expected to marry any one of a number of eligible young women, who would have been privileged to have been asked. Yet, here he was, a rejected suitor!

  Observing his friend's anguish, Mr Carr felt great sympathy for him, but had taken comfort from the fact that Darcy Gardiner at twenty-six was unlikely to be permanently scarred by his disappointment. Handsome and amiable, he was almost certain to be in love again, within the year.

  He did not dare say so at the time to the melancholy young man before him, however, trying instead to offer some temporary solace. Alas, without much success, for there is little one can do to assuage the self-inflicted sorrow of unrequited love.

  END OF PART ONE

  JULIAN DARCY WAS ABOUT to leave his lodgings in a quiet suburb of Paris and travel into the city, to complete the arrangements for his sojourn in Africa, when a packet was delivered to him, inside of which was Jessica's letter. He noticed that the direction had been written by his nephew, Darcy Gardiner, but paid little attention to the fact.

  He was appointed to travel with two distinguished French scientists, a chemist and a biologist, with whom he had planned to meet at L'Ecole de Saint Martin, where they were to receive their travel papers.

  He was late, and stopping only to break the seal on the packet and extract the letter within, he climbed into the carriage that waited for him in the street and read the letter as they made their way into town.

  Jessica had been brief, but in a few words she had so completely met his expectations, that he could hardly restrain himself when they reached his destination and alighted from the vehicle with the alacrity of a schoolboy. His two colleagues, noting the spring in his step, put it down to his eager spirit of scientific enquiry and enthusiasm for their journey; it suited Julian to let them believe it was so.

  Later, on returning to his rooms, Julian read the beloved letter again.

  Jessica wrote:

  My dear Julian,

  First let me thank you for your letter, which arrived in time to bring me such happiness that I am unable to stop smiling, and everyone I meet must think I am gone suddenly silly, for I cannot explain my cheerfulness!

  You asked me to send you word and said I could be brief. I shall do as you have asked and say with all my heart—I love you too, Julian. I have known this for some time now and long for your return so I may tell you so myself. It will be my greatest pleasure to do so. Will that do?

  Please, dear Julian, keep safe and write me when you can, but I do understand it may not be often, for you will be busy with your work. Besides, I needs must pretend that my interest is chiefly in your research, so do remember to fill at least half the page with useful scientific information, which I may relate to the rest of my family, who will undoubtedly expect to be informed of your progress.

  I am, of course, interested in your research too, but I love you and miss you so, I shall not be entirely at rest until you are safely home in Derbyshire.

  Till then, God bless you,

  Yours ever, Jessica.

  Julian smiled as he put it away in his pocket book, knowing he would take it out and read it again and again in the days to come. Nothing in his life so far had stirred him as deeply as the realisation of his love for her. That she returned his affections and had said so in words so simple and sincere, with no qualifications or conditions, was almost more than he could believe. That it had all come about so unexpectedly only enhanced his joy.

  Julian Darcy had long come to an acceptance of a position of secondary importance in every sphere of his life, save his profession, in which his preeminence had been established by patience and hard work and was recognised by his peers. Yet in his personal life, the reverse had been true.

  Since early childhood, he'd been aware that nothing he did or achieved would ever compensate his parents for the loss of William, his elder brother, whose death in an horrific riding accident had desolated their family. His sister Cassandra—intelligent, beautiful, and happily married—had always seemed the more likely heir to Pemberley than he was. It had been with some relief that, after Josie's death, he had relinquished his inheritance to his son, making young Anthony his grandfather's heir.

  In his marriage to Josie Tate, entered into at an early age, he had very quickly come to comprehend that his aspiring young wife placed greater value upon the opportunities she hoped to find at Cambridge and in London for
pursuing her career as a writer than upon their marriage.

  When his own work had engrossed his attention and taken up a good deal of his time, Josie had appeared to lose interest in their marriage and their son, leaving herself open and vulnerable to the deceits of those who would lead her astray. She had ceased to confide in him or seek his counsel, and he had been certain she no longer loved him.

  With Jessica's letter in his hand, he recalled that never, even in the most intimate moments of their married life, had he and Josie been able to make as open and artless a commitment to one another, as Jessica and he had done in the last fortnight. It was the recognition of this that afforded him the greatest pleasure and gave him more hope for happiness than he had dared to expect.

  He would go to Africa not just with the zeal of the scientist, but with the inspiration of a man who had every reason to return safe to England.

  It was a complete reversal of his former frame of mind.

  Before leaving France, he despatched a note, addressed to his nephew, Darcy Gardiner, in which he acknowledged receipt of the packet sent from England under his name, including the letter enclosed therein. Having thanked him for his kindness, Julian asked that this information be passed on to Miss Courtney together with a sealed note. Clearly, he believed that Darcy was in his Jessica's confidence.

  Of Darcy Gardiner's own feelings Julian knew nothing.

  When, on receiving the letter, Darcy took the enclosed note to Jessica, he could not fail to notice how her eyes devoured the few lines Julian had written and with what sincerity she thanked him for being the bearer of good news. If he'd had any doubts about her feelings, they were swiftly dispelled.

  Meanwhile, Jessica had spent a good deal of time contemplating the future and wondering how her life might change, were Julian to return from Africa and ask her to marry him. She had no confidante but her diary, in which she faithfully recorded her thoughts.