Her mind was engaged in wondering at her good fortune in making such admirable friends. Their generosity and hospitality far outweighed anything she had known before. The atmosphere of well-being and congenial gentility that surrounded them was of a quality that she could never have found within her own small circle of friends. Mr and Mrs Darcy, as well as Sir Richard and Lady Gardiner, had extended to her a level of cordiality that she had never expected, when she had returned to live at Colley Dale, hoping to find there respite from the atmosphere of Lindfield Towers, of which she had grown so weary.
For Jessica Courtney and Darcy Gardiner she had developed a special affection. Their warmth, genuine kindness, and happy sense of humour had surprised and delighted her, adding a completely new dimension to her life.
By the time sleep came, in the small hours, she had determined that these new friendships were so precious to her, nothing should be permitted to tarnish them.
ON HIS RETURN FROM London, Darcy Gardiner called at the parish school, ostensibly to ascertain if everything was in order, but also to see Kathryn O'Hare, although he had not as yet admitted this even to himself.
Kathryn, who had been alerted to his return by Jessica, greeted him cordially. Darcy was quite clearly pleased to see her looking so well and said so. However, she had sad news for him.
“You find me alone today, Mr Gardiner, except for Mr Hurst. Your cousin Jessica was summoned this morning to Oakleigh, where Mrs Gardiner has been taken ill.”
Darcy was immediately perturbed, as anxiety for his grandmother outweighed all other concerns. He wanted to be told what had occurred, when and where had Mrs Gardiner been taken ill.
“Is the cause of her illness known, and have you any news if she is recovered or is she still unwell?” he asked, and there was real urgency in his voice, while his usually cheerful, handsome face was darkened by a frown.
Kathryn could tell him little more than Jessica, who had received the news that morning from her mother, had revealed to her, before setting out herself for Oakleigh. It was enough for him to decide that he would travel thither himself, forthwith.
“I must discover if they need any help and make what arrangements may be necessary, especially now my uncle Robert and his wife have returned to London for the season. If my grandmother is seriously unwell, it will not be possible for Jessica to care for her alone.”
Kathryn nodded in agreement, understanding his concern.
Before he left, he revealed that he had hoped to arrange to visit her father again, on a mutually convenient day, but that needs must be postponed, he said, until he knew more about Mrs Gardiner's condition. He apologised and said, “I promise to return as soon as I have ascertained how things stand at Oakleigh,” and Kathryn accepted that Mrs Gardiner must have a prior claim upon his time.
When he had gone, Kathryn could not help wondering at his remarkable good nature and the deep concern he demonstrated for those he loved. She had not known a gentleman possessed of such a commendable sense of responsibility. It was not a common commodity in these times, when self advancement was the predominant concern of most young men.
As she returned to her young charges, who were becoming impatient and trying out the piano with very little success, Kathryn could not help feeling flattered by his attention, in coming so soon after his return from London to see her and arrange to call on her father. Yet, it was the impression of his kindness that stayed longest with her.
Two days later, Darcy revisited the school.
Kathryn was not entirely surprised to see him; Jessica was back too with the news that Mrs Gardiner's illness was not as bad as had been feared. Jessica's mother, Emily Courtney, had moved temporarily to Oakleigh to attend upon her mother until her condition improved.
When Darcy Gardiner arrived, Kathryn was preparing to leave and to Jessica's amusement, it seemed he had timed his arrival to coincide with her departure. Consequently, as he walked with her through the grounds, they were afforded plenty of time for private conversation.
Both Kathryn and her companion were pleasantly surprised at how easily they were able to pick up the threads of conversations on subjects which had been left unresolved, when they had parted some weeks ago.
After some initial pleasantries and light-hearted talk, she felt the need to ask how Mr Gladstone's campaign for the election was proceeding and did not anticipate his answer when he said, “I have to confess that I am not entirely sure how to answer you, because in truth, most of my time was spent working with Colin Elliott on a very parochial matter, the provision of money for a school in his constituency in Hertfordshire. I had hoped to be involved in some work on Mr Gladstone's policy on Ireland, concerning the matter of absentee landlords, which, as your father would know, is a vexed problem indeed.”
“And were you not?” she asked, expressing some concern.
His voice reflected his disappointment. “Sadly no, I was not. Primarily because Mr Gladstone's present preoccupation is almost wholly with the disestablishment of the Irish church—a subject for which I can summon up no enthusiasm at all!”
If Darcy Gardiner had no enthusiasm for the cause of disestablishment, Kathryn O'Hare knew nothing at all of the matter and confessed as much. Raising her eyes to heaven in exasperation, she asked, “And was there really nothing else to involve you? No policy on public education or the funding of parish schools?” knowing these were areas of great interest to him.
She heard the frustration in his voice when he replied, “No, in fact, I spent almost an entire fortnight waiting to be asked to become engaged in some matter of policy, but no such call came!”
“My father will certainly be very disappointed,” she said, explaining that Daniel O'Hare had been hoping to hear some good news of Mr Gladstone's campaign.
Darcy was about to respond when, as they approached the gate leading out of the estate, they heard the sounds of a horse being ridden at a very fast pace, approaching from the direction of Bakewell.
As the horse and rider came into view, Darcy saw but failed to recognise the man, who rode by, hardly glancing in their direction.
Kathryn, however, had been quite startled.
She had grown pale and drew back into the shelter of the trees beside the path.
When he turned to her, Darcy noted her pallor and obvious discomposure. Immediately solicitous, he asked, “Miss O'Hare, are you not well? Has something upset you?”
She hastened to deny that she was ill, but even as she spoke, her voice trembled and she swayed on her feet, which made him move swiftly to take her arm and steady her, before suggesting that she should not attempt to walk any further.
“You are unwell; I can see it, plainly. Please do not attempt to walk home alone, it will not be safe for you to do so. If you stay here awhile, I shall go round to the stables at Pemberley and return with a vehicle; I could bring it round by the road and convey you to Colley Dale,” he suggested.
But, she was reluctant to put him to so much trouble, even though she was well aware that she could not undertake a walk of above a mile to Colley Dale in her present state.
Still unwilling to impose upon him, she said, “I think if I were to rest here awhile, I could go on.”
He would not hear of it.
“No, I will not permit it. You must not put yourself in danger. Should you feel ill or faint on the way and suffer some accident, your parents will never forgive me nor will I forgive myself. I cannot agree to let you go on alone. Let me help you to that arbour over by the stream; if you would rest there awhile, just a very short while, I shall make my way across the park to the stables and return with a vehicle and all will be well. Trust me, Kathryn,” he said, and looking up at him, she saw the concern and anxiety on his countenance, and suddenly, she was very grateful for his reassuring presence.
She agreed then, and he helped her over the very short distance to the arbour, where he waited until she was seated and, having assured her he would not be long, strode quickly away towards t
he house.
As Kathryn waited, she heard again the sounds of an approaching horse. This time, they were coming back along the road, and even though she was fairly well concealed from the sight of anyone passing beyond the boundaries of the park, she was apprehensive and was very still until the horse and rider had gone past. Then, she rose and looked at the figure disappearing up the road; it was the same man they had seen a short while ago; she recognised his jacket and hat, quite clearly. As she realised who it was, her knees trembled and she returned to sit again in the shelter of the trees, feeling quite miserable.
By the time Darcy Gardiner returned, bringing a small vehicle up the road that encircled the estate, she had attempted to compose herself, but she was so very grateful for his help, so relieved he was back, she could not help the tears that filled her eyes.
Her manifest distress convinced him that she was indeed ill and he had been right to fetch the carriage. He helped her in, placed a rug over her knees, and drove away, taking the fork that branched off the Matlock road towards Colley Dale.
When they reached the house, he helped her out and attended her to the door, where Elena, who was in the front room, saw them and came out to greet them, followed by her mother.
Darcy explained that Kathryn had been taken ill.
“While walking home, she felt faint and was unable to make the journey on foot; I think she probably needs to rest,” and as Kathryn made to protest, he added, “Please do not be anxious, Miss O' Hare, I shall explain to Miss Courtney that you are not well enough to be at the school tomorrow. I am sure it will be best to rest for a day or two.”
It seemed her mother agreed and while Kathryn did try to explain that it could have been the heat, since it had been an unseasonably warm day, neither Elena nor her mother would listen, and soon she was helped upstairs to her bedroom. Darcy said his farewells and left to return to Pemberley.
Later, alone in her room, after her mother and sister had helped her change and left her to rest, Kathryn went over the events of the afternoon in her mind. She could say not a word to anyone, but she had recognised the man on the horse. It was a Mr Gordon Hartley-Brown, with whom she had become acquainted during her stay at Lindfield Towers. A cousin of her former employer, Lady Denny, he was probably the one man in the world she had absolutely no desire to meet. Not at this time, not ever.
On the way back to Pemberley, Darcy Gardiner called at the inn in Bakewell. It had been a warm afternoon and he was thirsty.
There were a few men in the parlour, and Darcy, who knew the landlord well, had a jug of ale brought to him in the smaller, more private room, where he would be undisturbed. Seated in an alcove, which afforded him a clear view of the road, he saw a man ride into the yard, dismount, and having handed the reins of his horse to a stable hand, enter the inn.
Darcy recognised his jacket; it was cut in a fashionable London style of a deep burgundy-coloured cloth; the very one he had seen on the man who had ridden past earlier that afternoon. From his vantage point, he could see the man as he stood at the bar and ordered a drink; he was not anyone Darcy knew, nor was he a man from the district.
He spoke to no one and made no attempt to be sociable.
Not long afterwards, the man finished his drink and took himself upstairs.
Darcy was puzzled.
Fashionably dressed and disinclined to mix with the locals, he was clearly a stranger in the area, and he must have rooms at the inn. Darcy was curious to know who he might be. There had been some talk in the village of speculators arriving to look over properties in the district. His grandfather, Mr Darcy, had heard from Colonel Fitzwilliam of extravagant offers being made to local farmers and was very much averse to the practice.
“It will destroy the land and impoverish the people,” he had predicted.
When the landlord returned to refill his glass, Darcy asked discreetly if he knew what business the gentleman from London was doing in the area.
“I have seen him in the district and thought he may be looking at a property,” he said, hoping by this means to lead the innkeeper on to divulging some thing he knew.
But in vain, for the landlord knew only that the gentleman, a Mr Hartley-Brown, was staying in the area for a while.
“You are right, sir; he is from London and is here on business, but I cannot say what his interest is. He has taken the room for a week and says he may stay longer if necessary…”
Darcy nodded and paid his bill. It was puzzling, but he knew it would soon come out. There were few secrets in a community as close-knit as theirs. Putting it out of his mind, he set off for home.
He found Jessica in the sitting room and told her of Kathryn's being unwell and unlikely to be at the school on the morrow. She was concerned and asked if he knew what ailed her. Darcy explained briefly and retired to his room.
On the day following, Jessica decided to call on her friend in the late afternoon. She went to Darcy and asked if he would drive her to Colley Dale, quite certain he would not wish to miss the opportunity to see Kathryn again. Clearly he did not and agreed at once to take her.
They were part of the way there, when a horseman passed them, riding at a furious pace towards Bakewell.
“There he is again, the fellow I saw at the inn yesterday,” said Darcy, “The landlord tells me he has rooms for a week. I wonder what he wants.”
“Who is he?” asked Jessica
“A Londoner, a Mr Hartley-Brown, or so the landlord told me, though he knew little more than his name. He is very flashy—probably with plenty of money to spend. I think he is probably looking to buy a property in the area,” said Darcy, and Jessica laughed.
“Oh dear, Mr Darcy will not welcome that. You know how he resents outsiders buying up pieces of the district and developing them for resale. If that is what he is about, Mr Hartley-Brown will not find himself welcome in these parts,” she said.
Darcy agreed wholeheartedly. “I know exactly how my grandfather feels; these men want only to make a fat profit. They have no interest in the land or the people who live here. They will cheerfully sell a village with all its houses, farms, and people as though they were cattle!”
“Are you sure that is what this man Hartley-Brown wants?” she asked and he shook his head, “I have no idea what he wants—I am only speculating, as I guess he is!” he replied. “He may be a perfectly innocent fellow, visiting the peak district on holiday, but somehow, I doubt it,” and they laughed together as they approached Colley Dale.
Kathryn heard the carriage and, looking out of her window, saw them alight at the front door. She hurried to be ready to go downstairs. When she came down to meet them, Jessica and Darcy were seated in the parlour with her mother and Elena. Both rose at once as she entered the room.
Jessica's concern at her being taken ill so suddenly and Darcy's relief at finding her much recovered from the previous day were equally heartfelt.
Jessica conveyed also the wishes of Mr and Mrs Darcy, who had sent a basket of fruit, which was placed on a table in the parlour.
While thanking them all for their concern and generosity, Kathryn was conscious of some embarrassment, since she had had no appreciable degree of physical indisposition to speak of and no way to account to them for her sudden affliction. It was bad enough to suffer from an inexplicable attack of something, but to be unable to identify or show cause for it was quite discomposing.
Kathryn tried to make light of it, but she was not assisted by her mother's intervention, when she claimed that Kathryn had been working too hard and was probably exhausted. Her daughter rushed to deny this; speaking with a lightness of tone she did not feel, Kathryn said, “That is not it at all, Mama, I am certainly not overworked at the school; indeed, having been on call for my three obstreperous charges at Lindfield Towers for most of the day and part of the night, I feel as though my present occupation is a permanent form of recreation. So little is demanded of me and there is so much satisfaction to be had from teaching the children, I am enj
oying myself to such a degree, I am certainly not suffering from exhaustion.” Turning to Darcy Gardiner, she added, “It was, however, a rather warm day, and I confess I was feeling a little fatigued from walking. I was very grateful to Mr Gardiner for bringing me home in the carriage.”
Darcy hastened to assure her it had been no trouble at all, asking afterwards, “And I trust you are feeling better today?”
“Yes indeed I am,” she replied brightly, “and I expect to be at the school tomorrow.”
“Kathryn, are you quite sure?” asked Jessica, clearly anxious she should not return too soon, but Kathryn was adamant; she was quite fit and well, she claimed, and would certainly be at the school on the morrow.
“If that is the case, we shall send a carriage for you. My grandfather, hearing of your illness, suggested it, at least until this very unseasonable warm weather ends. It can be quite oppressive for walking,” said Darcy. When she protested that there was no need, Jessica supported her cousin and in spite of Kathryn's protestations, it was agreed.
Thereafter, they partook of tea and shortbread, which Elena and the maid had brought in and placed upon the table.
Relieved to change the conversation from the subject of her indisposition, Kathryn sought to engage her visitors in a discussion of the plans for the school. It was something they were all interested in, but before long, she was to find herself trapped again in another subject, not of her choosing, which threatened to take her to the brink of very troubled waters.
Speaking of the need for a playground where the children may take some regular exercise, Jessica brought up the matter of a piece of farmland, that had lain idle for many years on the boundary of a freehold property near Little Meadow, not far from the school.
“It would be a most convenient and appropriate place for a playground for the older children, being only a few minutes' walk from the school. We plan to ask Mr Darcy if he will purchase it for the school from the owner, who appears to have no good use for it.”
Postscript from Pemberley Page 14
