Postscript from Pemberley

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  During the days she had spent at Rushmore Farm, Lizzie and her husband had improved their acquaintance with the lady and liked her very well.

  Mr Carr, whose American heritage meant he was accustomed to personable and articulate women with strong opinions of their own, was very impressed with her erudition and general intelligence, while his wife declared her to be “a most interesting and witty companion, with a wide range of interests.”

  They were both agreed that she was also charming and talented. All these attributes combined to convince them that Miss O'Hare would probably make a very agreeable partner for her brother.

  “If I were to say that I think my dear brother may be very close to falling in love with Kathryn, what would you say?” Lizzie asked her husband as they sat at dinner one evening.

  He did not appear at all astonished by her question.

  “Lizzie, if that is the case, then I believe he will be very happy with her, should they marry. I can see nothing adverse or disadvantageous in the match, can you?” was his reply, and they were agreed that Miss O'Hare certainly seemed a most acceptable young lady.

  “She is both intelligent and charming, and should your brother decide to stand for Parliament, as he may well do, such a wife will be a considerable asset to him,” Mr Carr added.

  Meanwhile Jessica, who had by now become quite convinced that it was only a matter of time before Darcy and Kathryn would discover the true extent of their mutual affection, wrote to Julian, declaring that an engagement could not be far off and if a wedding were to follow, this was one occasion for which he must surely return to Pemberley.

  Darcy is in London at present, but he will be back for Christmas and it is my hope they will become engaged then. Dear Julian, how I wish you too could be here at that time, but I know you must be very busy and will want to complete your work before the new year, she wrote and only just succeeded in holding back her tears, as she dispatched her letter to the post, unaware that the man to whom it was addressed was, at that very moment, embarking upon the journey that would bring him back to Pemberley for Christmas.

  On a cold morning in London, with not a great deal of enthusiasm for leaving his warm bedroom and setting out for Whitehall, Darcy Gardiner broke the seal on the letter from his brother Edward, casually and without thinking what its contents might hold.

  His brother did not communicate with him very often, and Darcy assumed this would be a formal note of thanks for his part in making the arrangements for their grandmother's funeral. (Edward had been very busy at his practice and had arrived on the morning of the funeral.)

  On opening the letter, however, Darcy was surprised to find it comprised of two pages, closely written and clearly of rather serious import.

  My dear Darcy, it began, and then went on in a most unexpected fashion:

  I am not unaware that most young gentlemen do not easily admit of any interference even from their nearest relations, into their personal affairs.

  Far be it from me, then, to attempt such interference or to dictate to you in matters of the heart, but I do hope, my dear brother, that you will accept my advice in the spirit in which it is proffered.

  Surprised, Darcy read on.

  In the very important matter of matrimony, there is much to be considered before a final decision is made. Your family, especially your parents and siblings, must be considered, as well as the credit of your name and reputation in society, and, of course, there is your own prospect of happiness.

  All these are in jeopardy, should you make an error of judgment in the important matter of choosing a wife. One false step will bring misery to many, including yourself.

  Puzzled indeed by this line of argument, Darcy continued reading.

  I know you will probably be well aware of all this and would surely not require to be reminded of it, but, I think also, and my dear Angela reminds me, that we men are weak creatures when it comes to the fair sex and when we are blinded by fascination, especially if the lady is both beautiful and talented. However, appearance, dear brother, is not everything and one must look to character and reputation.

  Now, I do not mean to suggest that the lady in question is wanting in character, but that it is best to make certain enquiries first and satisfy yourself, and your family, that she is all you believe her to be, prior to making any commitment.

  No doubt she is both attractive and elegant and, as she certainly proved in her performance at Pemberley, exceedingly talented, but is she right for you and your family?

  Darcy read the letter through twice, before deciding that Edward was warning him against making an offer to Kathryn O'Hare. Since he had not at any time mentioned the lady's name, no doubt deeming it to be indelicate to do so, the letter had seemed at first to be a general sermon on matrimony. Only in the last two lines had his exact intention become clear.

  When he realised the implications of his brother's words, Darcy was furious! His first response was, “How dare he?”

  His immediate inclination was to sit down at once and write a curt note requesting that Edward mind his own business.

  But, on reflection, Darcy realised that it was possibly Angela, his wife, who had urged him to write and it would be unfair to take it all out on Edward.

  He decided then to ignore the letter altogether.

  There was, however, one part of it he could not ignore. How, he wondered, had his brother, and possibly his sister-in-law, come to the conclusion they had about himself and Kathryn? They had only observed them on one or two occasions. Could he have given them the impression that he was in love with the lady?

  Darcy could not be certain.

  Thinking over their association, he wondered about his feelings, and the more he wondered, the more he became convinced that he had probably failed to see something that was plain to others.

  Kathryn O'Hare was a charming young woman with a very particular appeal that Darcy had not found in others of his acquaintance. Aside from her looks, her conversation was unfailingly intelligent, her interests more diverse than those of most ladies he knew, and he was to admit upon reflection, that it would be very easy to fall in love with her.

  He mused, if his brother Edward, who noticed very little outside of his own professional business, had perceived it, would not others have done so too? It was, he had to admit, a distinct possibility that they had.

  This line of thought changed his attitude to his brother's letter altogether, for it now appeared that, by drawing his attention to it, Edward had forced him to acknowledge something he had ignored for some little while.

  It was therefore with a new interest that Darcy now looked forward to his return to Pemberley at Christmas.

  It would be good to meet Kathryn again, he thought, and decide for himself whether there was between them that extra spark which denotes the beginning of feelings warmer and more enduring than mutual admiration and good company.

  Having finally persuaded himself that despite the foul weather, it was important to brave the cold, wet streets of London, Darcy addressed himself to the business at hand. There were papers to be read and breakfast to be eaten. He was in the midst of these essential activities, when the doorbell rang and Mr David Fitzwilliam was admitted.

  Darcy's surprise was obvious—almost, he feared, to the point of rudeness— although he hastily assured his cousin that he had not intended it to be so.

  “Why, David, what are you doing in London? Not bearing more bad news from home, I hope?” he had said, and seeing his cousin's astonishment, he relented and assured him he was very welcome.

  Swiftly sending for more tea and toast, Darcy tried to make amends, “I do apologise, David, I did not mean to appear inhospitable or rude, I was just so startled to see you, I thought something dreadful had happened at home in Derbyshire and you had been sent to break it to me. But since that is obviously not the case, you are very welcome indeed. I do hope you are staying a few days, I should like to take you into the Commons and let you hear the debates.�
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  Several cups of tea and much hot buttered toast later, it emerged that David Fitzwilliam had come up to London not so he could see the nation's leaders at work, but in the hope of obtaining his cousin's advice on what he termed “a delicate and very confidential matter.”

  Darcy was interested, “Is it a business proposition?” he asked, thinking immediately that his cousin had been offered a position in a firm and was concerned about its suitability. But David was adamant it was a far more important matter.

  “Oh no, no,” he said, “it is much more worrying than that. Seriously, Darcy, I do need your counsel; I cannot afford to make a mistake. “

  Puzzled, Darcy urged his cousin to tell all, and when he did, was all astonishment at what he heard.

  Unbeknownst to most members of the families at Matlock and Pemberley, an interesting new association had developed, mainly in Manchester, where David now spent a good deal of his time.

  A certain Miss Lucinda Longhurst had been appointed to work as a teacher at the small private school started by David's sister Isabella Bentley for the children of the area, and David, who had met the lady socially and admired her greatly, confessed that he had reached the conclusion that he was in love with her.

  “I have been pondering these last few months what I should do. Should I speak to her of my feelings? How is she likely to respond? Or must I wait until I have obtained some more lucrative employment before I approach her? I need some sound advice, Darcy; what do I do?”

  Darcy was amused as well as surprised, not only because his cousin seemed so totally unready for the experience, but also because of the strange parallel with his own situation.

  Although he was some years older than Darcy, David, the son of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline, being a somewhat solitary young fellow after the death of his older brother Edward, had often turned to his younger cousins for counsel as he faced the challenges and hazards of growing up.

  Edward Gardiner had been too busy with his medical studies, but Darcy had felt some sympathy for his cousin, and as their fathers and grandfathers before them had become close friends, Darcy Gardiner and David Fitzwilliam had looked to each other for friendship and company.

  For his part, Darcy had disregarded the difference in their ages, finding in David a more congenial if occasionally rather naïve companion than his own brother Edward. Thus it was that he now turned his attention to what might be called David's love life, although he was quite sure David would be far too shy to call it any such thing!

  While Darcy remembered well their governess Miss Fenton, he had only a very hazy memory of her niece, Lucy Longhurst, who had for a short time been governess to his siblings, James and Laura Ann, before she had moved to Manchester to live with her aunt. He had therefore to rely almost entirely upon David's description of her appearance and character.

  “Darcy, she is quite beautiful! I am astonished that she is not already engaged, especially in view of her sweet nature, sound education, and exceptional talents,” he said, and the superlatives flowed easily.

  “My sister Isabella regards her very highly. 'Lucy is a little miracle!' she says. 'She is so good with the girls; she has them all learning their letters and sewing handkerchiefs and fashioning pincushions and Lord knows what else… they do not waste a single minute of the day.'”

  David was clearly impressed, too, for he declared that he had seen Miss Lucy Longhurst at work with the children of Isabella's school and had been amazed at her proficiency.

  “And all this she accomplishes without a single harsh word and no sign whatsoever of the dreaded cane! Darcy, she is an angel!” he declared, adding, “It seems so strange that she has not been spoken for!” David appeared genuinely puzzled.

  “Could it have something to do with the lady's lack of a fortune?” his cousin asked quietly.

  David seemed very shocked at the suggestion. “Could it? Do you believe that is the case?”

  “Well, David, I wouldn't know, but some men, and I exempt you, of course, may believe that a young woman who must make her living as a school teacher is not sufficiently well endowed. Many young men today are seeking to wed a woman of substance, with property, shares, and influence even. They rate this above looks and education—certainly above talent and the ability to teach young children to read and sew.”

  David looked so revolted, Darcy had to smile.

  “Darcy, are you serious? Do you mean to tell me that most men, even you, would so regard a lady that her beauty, however uncommon, her good nature and accomplishments would rate lower in their estimation than her fortune?”

  Darcy laughed but spoke more gently this time. “No, my dear fellow, I certainly would not—but many would. In London society today, there are several young men from well-established but impoverished families, who are very short of money to support their extravagant habits. They would not marry a young lady without a fortune. Oh they would certainly admire her and even flirt with her, or worse, but marriage would not be considered prudent unless there was some prospect of money or a thriving business involved.”

  “And love?” asked David, with a degree of innocence that touched Darcy.

  “Ah yes, love; well, David, I think we have to accept that some men only believe they are really in love with a lady after they have glimpsed the gleam of gold.”

  “That is disgusting!” said David and proceeded to declare, “But I do not care a fig about fortune!” as he rose from his chair and walked about the room, clearly agitated and unhappy, expressing his outrage at the conduct of others of his sex, “I love her and that is enough.”

  “Then,” said Darcy, “you need not worry at all. If you love Miss Longhurst and believe she returns your affection, all should be plain sailing. There is no more fortunate man than one who loves and is loved in return.”

  David, still shaken but a little more confident, confessed that he had considered the matter very carefully, and while he was quite certain of his own feelings and had hopes of their being returned, he had not wished to propose to the lady until he had secured his own future.

  “I must have some occupation—a secure position somewhere, before I can make her an offer. Do you understand, Darcy?”

  Darcy agreed, “Indeed I do, and I am in complete accord with you. A man cannot propose marriage to a young lady unless he has something to offer, apart from himself, of course. Tell me, have you spoken of this matter—of your feelings for Miss Longhurst—to your sister or your mother? What has been their response?” Darcy asked.

  His cousin shook his head and said ruefully, “No, I have not. To tell you the truth, Darcy, I have been reluctant to speak too openly of the matter to anyone, lest it become common talk and be conveyed to Miss Longhurst herself or her aunt Miss Fenton. I should not wish her to know of my feelings, except from my own lips, once I have ensured that I have a reasonable offer to make and secured my parents' blessing.”

  While he thoroughly approved of this sensible attitude, Darcy was now at a loss to understand how he could further assist his cousin. Unless David was hoping he could help him secure a position in London, he could not perceive what more he could do for him.

  “David, may I ask how you wish me to help you in this matter?” he asked, sounding rather more tentative than before.

  At this, David sat up straight in his chair, looking quite surprised at the question.

  “Why, Darcy, I do believe you have helped me already. Speaking about it with you has made me see my situation more clearly. I now know what I must do; my chief concern now is, how shall I do it?”

  Darcy Gardiner was generally a patient man, but his cousin's meanderings were beginning to exasperate him. He recalled the many times they had talked in similar vein, when David had been determined to pursue a career in the cavalry. It had taken many hours of argument and a few persuasive lectures from his uncle Julian Darcy to make David realise the futility of his ambition.

  Not the most decisive of young men, though in many ways an amia
ble and charming fellow, David needed firm handling and wise counsel. Often he needed only to be prodded in the right direction and would readily follow good advice.

  Darcy decided it was time to be firm.

  “David,” he said in a voice that brooked no interruption, “I think you need to go away and think things over very carefully and sensibly, before you approach anyone. Having done so, you should then advise your sister and parents of your intentions towards Miss Longhurst and your desire to secure a stable position with an independent income, after which you could call on the lady and declare your feelings with confidence.”

  David, having listened very earnestly, said, “Do you not suppose that in the meantime, she will begin to wonder at my silence? Were I to say nothing, will she not believe me to be indifferent to her?”

  Darcy's patience was almost at an end. “My dear fellow, I cannot speak for Miss Longhurst, but most young ladies of good sense and sensibility are well aware of being the object of our admiration and conscious of a gentleman's interest in them. If your Miss Longhurst is as clever as you say she is, she will have guessed that you have gone away to consult with your family and will be back anon.”

  “As indeed I am and I will. Thank you, Darcy, I see it all in quite a different light now, and everything seems much clearer,” he said, rising and moving to the door. “I had better be gone; there are things I must do.”

  “Exactly,” said Darcy, much relieved. “Go to it and I wish you luck with your quest. Should you succeed, and I see no reason why you should not, I look forward to wishing you both happiness in the near future.”

  As David hurried out, thanking him again as he went, Darcy just managed to conceal a smile, as he said, “I shall never forget your kindness, Darcy; thank you again, and remember, you must call on me if I can be of any help, at any time,” and disappeared down the street.