Mr Darcy nodded. “I agree, but that does not have to involve the sale or mortgage of her parents' home! Oakleigh meant a great deal to Mr Gardiner—it was much more than a property acquired at a good price for commercial advantage.
“Mr Gardiner bought it to fulfil a promise to his wife, who, as you both know, was born and raised in the district and loved it dearly. Your father, Richard, was delighted when he was able to purchase such a fine place for her, and I think it would have broken their hearts to think its sale would even be contemplated by one of their children.
“I am aware that since Mr Gardiner's death, there have been offers to buy the place or to subdivide and sell portions of it for development, but Mrs Gardiner did not wish it, and I advised against it. If I were asked today, I would do the same again. Oakleigh Manor is an excellent, profitable estate and ought be kept in your family.”
He sounded so determined, both Richard and Darcy realised that even if Emily had wished to pursue the deal offered by Mr Maxworthy, Mr Darcy, as joint trustee of the estate together with Richard, would not have consented to it.
“I think we are agreed then, sir, that Aunt Emily should be advised against accepting the proposal,” said Darcy Gardiner, “but we do have to find some means of helping her overcome this financial crisis.”
“Indeed, we must,” said his grandfather. “Emily is always in danger of being exploited, because she thinks so little about her own needs. Her concerns are primarily for others—her family or the community.”
“Can I assume then that you do not support the idea of a school for ladies?” asked Darcy, curious to know his grandfather's view of the proposal.
Mr Darcy smiled and, when he replied, was somewhat ambivalent on the matter. “While I can see why Emily is attracted to the idea and I can understand the value of such a school, there will always be the problem of funding it. The income from the estate goes into the trust, which your father and I together with the attorney Mr Jennings administer. Emily may draw upon it for her own expenses and the maintenance of the property, but she is not authorised to use it for any other purpose, certainly not for setting up a school,” he said.
Young Darcy raised his eyebrows and looked anxious. “That would certainly present a problem,” he said.
“It would, and Emily knows this well, which is why she has appealed to Robert's generosity, which she alone must believe in, for I confess, I have seen no evidence of it!” said Mr Darcy, adding with a smile, “And, it would seem that in his usual fashion, Robert has passed the proposal on to Maxworthy, who is no fool. He has jumped at the idea of a mortgage, knowing, on the basis of Emily's own figures, that she will never be able to repay the full sum plus the interest. Now, while a sale is not permitted under the conditions of the will, a private mortgage may well be another matter.”
“Could my aunt take such a mortgage on the property without the consent of the trustees?” Darcy asked.
“In theory, yes, because she is the immediate inheritor according to the terms of Mrs Gardiner's will, and if she does so and cannot repay the sum on demand, the trustees will be notified; the matter may then go to court and the court may order a sale. I leave you to speculate who will benefit most from such an eventuality.”
Both Darcy and Richard looked horrified at the prospect.
“Do you believe, sir, that my uncle Robert is capable of foreclosing upon Aunt Emily in order to acquire the estate? Is it possible?”
Mr Darcy's eyes narrowed and he looked very grave indeed.
“Darcy, you are yet to learn that in matters of property, anything is possible. Families have been thrown onto the street or sent to the workhouse, because an avaricious lawyer has taken advantage of the situation of one relative or the greed of another. Robert, you must remember, is not the only protagonist here—Maxworthy is probably deeply involved as well. It is he who will provide the money for the loan. It is unlikely that Robert can find even half that sum.”
“And how might we prevent this, sir?” asked Richard, clearly shocked by what he had heard.
“Only by explaining to your sister the perils of the scheme proposed by Maxworthy and providing her with a sensible alternative,” replied Mr Darcy.
“With what you have told us, it may not be difficult to achieve the first objective, but how on earth is the second to be accomplished? If Emily's financial affairs are so dire, what alternatives are there?”
Richard, having had very little time in the course of a busy medical career to be involved with business and property matters, was completely at sea.
Mr Darcy went to his bureau and took out a cutting from a recent edition of the Matlock Reporter, which he handed to Richard.
It was an advertisement inserted by a businessman, wishing to start a flower farm and looking to lease a piece of enclosed, fertile farmland for the purpose. He was open to offers and gave an address in a village not far from Matlock.
Richard was intrigued.
“A flower farm? Do you believe this is a possible alternative, sir?” he asked.
“It may be, but there are others like it, which could well provide a simpler, far more certain source of income for Emily than a school. Better still, there would be no need to borrow any money for capital expenses; instead she would begin to earn an income from the lease, immediately the contract was signed,” Mr Darcy explained.
“And the trust would have no objection?” asked Darcy Gardiner.
“No, because there is no risk to the estate at all,” replied his grandfather cheerfully. “Indeed, it might be said that this would constitute an improvement to the value of the property. There are many acres of good farmland at Oakleigh, enclosed in earlier times and left fallow, which may be used in exactly this way, without impinging upon the home farm. We have similar areas within the Pemberley estate, too, which I would like to look at with a view to making them more productive.”
Young Darcy was most impressed and enthusiastic.
“It is a capital scheme, sir, but I wonder how it may be recommended to my aunt. How is she to be persuaded that it is in her best interest to lease part of her land to some flower farmer?”
At that his grandfather laughed, a very cheerful laugh. “Well, Darcy, that piece of diplomacy I believe we must leave to you; with your experience in the political sphere, persuasion should come easily to you. It should not be difficult to explain how it was that you discovered the information and to convince her that such a scheme as this one, or some other like it, would be far preferable to Maxworthy's perilous proposal for a mortgage, which she has no chance of repaying!”
“But what about her school—will she agree to give it up? Aunt Emily can be very single minded,” said Darcy.
Richard intervened then to explain, “I think not in this case, not when I have explained the situation in relation to James Courtney's health and the care she will need to give him, if he is to have a chance of recovery. She will see, I am sure, that the school is not a practical proposition.”
Mr Darcy nodded, seeming quite sanguine. “Well then, go to it and make sure you have her convinced, before she is persuaded by Robert or Rose or that old fox Maxworthy to sign something that may cause her and the rest of us a whole lot of unpleasantness,” he said. “I do not trust Maxworthy; he is a cunning fellow; I once caught him trying to persuade a tenant farmer of mine to sign over his entire crop over several years, in return for a fixed sum of money. The man needed it to get his son into the Navy and was prepared to do anything to get it. Fortunately, Mr Grantham got wind of it, and we put a stop to it. We found him the money and sent old Maxworthy off with a flea in his ear!”
Laughing together, they went downstairs to join Elizabeth, who tried to persuade Richard and Darcy to stay to dinner. But both father and son were tired and keen to be home.
“Mama expects me to dine at home today; I shall not be popular if we are late again,” said Darcy, and his grandmother, whose affection for him was unconditional, conceded.
“Ah well, I daresay,
I must give way to your mama occasionally,” said she. He was a great favourite with her. She was, however, still keen to discover the reason for their sudden visit and the time they had spent closeted in her husband's study.
“And what have you three been plotting together?” she asked, to which Mr Darcy laughed and replied lightly, “Only a little matter of a flower farm, my dear; nothing of any major consequence.”
“A flower farm? Where?” Elizabeth asked, more curious than ever.
“That is what young Darcy intends to find out, Lizzie. When he does, I am sure we shall all know about it, am I not right, Darcy?”
Picking up his cue swiftly, Darcy replied, “Yes indeed, sir, I shall be back with all the relevant information,” and before Elizabeth could ask another question, they moved to the entrance, where the curricle awaited them.
No doubt she would ask Mr Darcy again and probably later, when they were alone, he would tell her more about it; but for the moment, with the servants milling around lighting the lamps and preparing to serve dinner, the topic was closed.
PRIOR TO VISITING HIS aunt, Darcy Gardiner went to Ripley, to meet the man who wished to lease land for a flower farm.
Having discussed the prospect with his mother, he had taken her advice that it would be best to ascertain more about Mr Mancini and his plans before taking it to Emily.
Cassandra had been quite enthusiastic about the scheme. “What a good idea; no doubt there is a growing demand for blooms in the cities, and if they can be transported on the railway, it might prove very profitable,” she said, clearly pleased with the suggestion.
“Enough to pay Aunt Emily a reasonable sum on a lease?” Darcy asked.
“Certainly; look how well Colonel Fitzwilliam has done by leasing the lower meadows on his property for cattle pasture. It used to be idle land—too wet for sheep and too poor for crops. It brings him a good return now, with very little effort or expense,” she said, adding, “Trust my father to come up with a sensible proposition.”
Mr Mancini turned out to be an Italian piano tuner turned farmer. He had married a young woman from the village of Ripley and settled in the area, where he had a small mixed farm. He told Darcy, his father had been a stall holder at the Covent Garden markets, and while he was content and happy with his lot, he'd always yearned to follow in his father's footsteps and grow flowers for the London market. With his family grown up and engaged in their own businesses, he had time and money on his hands, he said, and talked enthusiastically of growing and marketing roses, lilies, and baskets of lavender.
“But I have not enough land here,” he said. “All I need is an enclosed piece of fertile land, not too far from here,” and when Darcy proposed that he take a look at the land available at Oakleigh, the man was eager and willing to come at once. Indeed, it was with some difficulty that Darcy persuaded him to wait a day or two, until his aunt had agreed to the scheme.
They discussed terms, and both men appeared satisfied, and though nothing was concluded, there seemed to be a level of trust between them, which was reassuring. Mancini certainly did not lack the money or the energy needed for the enterprise, thought Darcy.
He did, however, press Darcy for a quick settlement of the matter.
“I cannot delay too long,” he said. “If the land is suitable, I must prepare the soil and set the bulbs for next Spring, before the ground is too hard. The roses too must be in well in time. There is much work to be done in the early Winter,” he explained, and Darcy assured him he would have an answer very soon.
As he left the village, he felt a sense of relief; if his aunt agreed, it seemed as though Mr Mancini may well help save Oakleigh from the machinations of his uncle Mr Robert Gardiner and his lawyer Mr Maxworthy.
Before going on to Oakleigh, Darcy called at Colley Dale, hoping to find Kathryn at home. He was told by Mrs O'Hare that she had gone in to Matlock with Elena to purchase supplies for the school. Disappointed, since he had not seen her in several days, he promised to call in later and was invited to stay to dinner.
At Oakleigh, he found his aunt Emily Courtney alone with her young son Jude, who was studying at the dinner table while his mother struggled with her accounts. When Darcy arrived, she closed the books and pushed them away and greeted him gladly, but he could feel the weariness in her. She was younger than her sister Caroline, but looked a good deal older, and he could not fail to see the lines of anxiety that marked her countenance.
Yet, she smiled and offered him tea and thanked him for his kindness in helping her pay out her labourers.
“It was good of you to advance the money, Darcy; we have been a little short of ready cash this month. There have been many unforeseen expenses and I am very grateful. I promise you will be repaid very soon,” she said quickly and without any embarrassment.
Determined to do his best to persuade her to reject Maxworthy's offer of a loan, Darcy made light of the matter of the money, but proceeded quickly to the subject of the letters he had discovered by chance in her desk. He revealed apologetically that he had read them, believing they were business matters, which may have required his attention in her absence.
“Believe me, Aunt, I did not realise until I had read both documents that it was a response to a request from you to my uncle Robert. I did not mean to pry into your affairs, and I do beg your pardon.”
He said nothing of his having taken the matter to his father and Mr Darcy, waiting for her response, expecting her to express some degree of surprise or disapproval even and wondering how he would get on thereafter.
But no such thing ensued.
Instead, when he looked at her, expecting a mild reproof, he saw tears in her eyes, and moments later, she rose, and taking young Jude with her, rushed from the room, leaving him alone, wondering what was to follow.
Would she return? Was her departure a sign of anger, and did she expect him to leave? he wondered.
He waited, and some ten minutes later, Emily returned to the room, having taken her son upstairs to continue his work there. She brought with her the two letters he had mentioned and placed them before him on the table.
In a voice that was still unsteady, she said, “Please read them again, Darcy. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you did discover them.”
He picked them up, and she continued, “I have sat here day after day, since Mr Courtney was taken to the hospital, filled with regret and shame—all because of those wretched letters.”
She looked miserable, and Darcy was very remorseful as she continued, “Now, I know you have seen them, at least I can talk about them to you. Darcy, ever since I understood what Robert had done, bringing in Mr Maxworthy, and I realised what I had become involved in, I have been so unhappy…” she said tearfully.
Darcy Gardiner was appalled. He could not comprehend it; his aunt was weeping, ashamed, and unhappy, yet it was she who had initiated the matter, by her appeal to her brother for help with the school. It was a perplexing situation, which he found difficult to unravel.
Yet, as she sobbed, he could not bear it and, rising from his chair, went to her side, trying to comfort her.
Seeing her obvious distress, he asked gently, “But, Aunt Emily, how was it you came to be in this situation?”
The explanation, given through a series of sad and often incoherent sentences, told him something of the anguish she had borne, mostly alone, since discovering the truth about her husband's health and the desperate state of their finances. The realisation that Reverend Courtney would have to retire and, without the stipend he received from the living at Kympton, his modest annuity and that the money they derived from the farm would be quite inadequate for their needs, and the acceptance that she was responsible for most of their forlorn circumstances, since in her enthusiasm for charitable causes, she had given away most of her patrimony, had been the genesis of her idea for a school.
“I had heard how well Charlotte Collins had done with her little school, and I felt it was a good thing to do. I could
use a part of the house—we do not use even half the rooms downstairs—and I would work at home, being always here to care for Mr Courtney when he needed me. I knew it would require some money to be spent at the outset, which is why I appealed to Robert for help. I was not asking for charity—I hoped he would see it as an investment in something good and wholesome, a scheme that would earn us some money and help the community, too.
“Darcy, I did not expect him to send my letter off to his attorney, nor did I dream that they would offer to buy me out or take a mortgage on the property. Ever since Mr Maxworthy's letter arrived, all laid out so coldly, I have been so ashamed. I could see Mama's face—I have wondered how she would feel, would she ever forgive me?”
She broke down, and he put an arm around her shoulders. “Did you not think to ask my father or even Mr Darcy for help?” he asked, and she dried her eyes and shook her head.
“How could I? They have both done so much for us. Mr Darcy was my father's dearest friend and partner—I did not know how to face him; what would he think of me? Besides, it is to Mr Darcy and Cousin Lizzie I have turned whenever we had a problem, and they have always helped. This time, I thought it was my duty to find a solution myself.”
“And Papa?” he pressed her further, and she replied, “I did contemplate it, but Richard is very busy and always so kind. He has been so good about attending upon Mr Courtney at all hours, I had not the heart to trouble him with my financial problems. Besides, I know he is not very interested in matters of business. He was not keen to be involved in Father's company either. I thought Robert might be more interested, but clearly, I was wrong.”
Again she lapsed into a state of depression and seemed surprised when Darcy asked, “Have you yet communicated with Mr Maxworthy or my uncle Robert?”
Emily shook her head vigorously and said, “No, I have sat here scribbling, trying to write a dozen or more letters, and I have torn them all up. What could I say? I was afraid if I said bluntly, no, Robert would be angry with me, because I had asked for his help and then wasted his time…”
Postscript from Pemberley Page 31
