“But you do not intend to take up Maxworthy's offer of a loan, do you?”
“Certainly not; how would I ever repay it? Besides, should he foreclose, what would I tell your father and Mr Darcy? They would be appalled!”
“Indeed, they would, I am sure, but what about your school?” Darcy wished to discover how committed Emily was to the school, before suggesting that she should abandon the idea.
At this she looked truly unhappy and said, “I don't really know. I had hoped it would help me earn a little extra money, whilst also helping to improve the lives of some of the girls in the area; there are many young women from decent families, who get no education and no chance in life, because they are too poor to have a governess and there is no school for older girls here. They are most often condemned to work as servants or in those ghastly factories in the Midlands. I had hoped to teach them to speak and read and conduct themselves in society, so they may have some hope of advancement in life. But, if I cannot find the money, I cannot help them or myself.”
It was at this point that Darcy decided 'twere best to tell his aunt the plain truth about his visit.
“Aunt Emily, when I came here today, I came to tell you of something you can do, which will help you make some extra money, without the need for borrowing money or taking on more work yourself.”
Emily sat up quite straight and looked at him in disbelief.
“Darcy, I am too old to believe in fairy tales. I trust you are not teasing me with some silly investment scheme.”
“No indeed, I am not. Before I tell you more, tell me, has my father spoken to you of Reverend Courtney's condition and what needs to be done for him?”
“Yes, he has; Richard explained it all to me at the hospital,” and her voice fell to a whisper, even though there was no one to overhear her words. “I know he will need a great deal of care. I have said nothing to Jude or Jessica yet, but I do realise it is going to be a very difficult time until he is fit again.”
Darcy sighed, grateful for his father's timely intervention. That at least would make his own task easier.
“What is it you came to tell me?” Emily asked.
He began by showing her the cutting taken from the Matlock Reporter by Mr Darcy and then proceeded to explain the scheme proposed by Mr Mancini. “I have been to see him. He is genuinely eager to do business; I have ascertained what he is prepared to pay for a lease on a piece of enclosed farmland, with access to the road, to enable him to transport the flowers to the railway…”
“Flowers? Did you say he wishes to grow flowers on this piece of land?” she asked, interrupting his explanation.
“He does—he says his father sold flowers at Covent Garden. He wishes to grow them and send them to the markets in the cities.”
Emily listened, staring wide-eyed at her nephew, astonished not only at the simplicity of the scheme proposed, but also at the astute business sense he had demonstrated. Emily had never been particularly keen on business; service and charity had been her strengths.
When he had explained it all, she nodded, understanding what he had meant when he said it would require no money and no extra work on her part.
“Is it really possible? Will this gentleman, this Mr Mancini, pay me a monthly sum on the lease and spend his own money on the rest—repair the fences, prepare the soil; the land has been idle for many years and will need much work if he is to succeed—and will he hire the labour to do the work?” she asked, almost disbelieving.
“He will; he is himself a farmer—he runs a small mixed farm and market garden outside Ripley and to judge by his house, he must be a fairly successful farmer. I believe he will attend to everything and pay you for the privilege of doing so,” he said, and Emily could scarce believe it. Rising from her chair, she embraced her nephew and thanked him from the bottom of her heart.
“Darcy, I shall write tonight to refuse Mr Maxworthy's offer, and I shall take great delight in doing it,” she said with a smile that lightened her countenance, for the first time, since he had arrived at the house.
Agreeing that it was a sound decision and having arranged a convenient time to meet with Mr Mancini, he left to return to Colley Dale.
He should have been pleased, filled with a sense of achievement; instead he felt only fatigue and deep relief. It had been an exhausting afternoon.
At Colley Dale, Kathryn's family made him very welcome.
Mrs O'Hare protested that he had not dined with them in a fortnight, and Elena declared it was almost seven days since he had come to visit. Kathryn smiled but said nothing. Darcy, looking and feeling abashed, made his apologies. “It has been an extraordinarily busy week,” he said. “This is always a hectic time of year. As well, the new rector of Kympton, Frank Grantley, and his wife and baby have arrived to take up residence. And we had to help them settle in.”
Mrs O'Hare was interested. “I understand the new rector is your cousin, Mr Gardiner.”
“He is indeed; Frank is the younger son of Mr Darcy's sister Georgiana, who is married to Dr Francis Grantley, a very distinguished dean at Oxford. Frank's wife Amy is also my cousin, from the Gardiner side of the family; she is my aunt Caroline Fitzwilliam's daughter, and of course, Aunt Caroline is married to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is Mr Darcy's cousin!” he explained, and everyone thought this was very droll indeed.
“Oh dear, I wonder how you keep track of them!” exclaimed Mrs O'Hare.
As the rest of the family chatted and laughed over dinner, Darcy noticed that Kathryn seemed especially quiet and put it down to her being tired from her journey into Matlock that morning. It had been unusually warm, and the long walk could have been quite enervating. He recalled that she had once before suffered similarly, and said nothing, not wishing to embarrass her.
After dinner, Mr O'Hare stayed only a short while before retiring upstairs, having bid their guest good night, but not before saying, “If you see any of those Liberal politicians, Mr Gardiner, tell them I am bitterly disappointed that they are intent on spending so much time arguing about the Anglican church in Ireland—they have done nothing yet for the poor working men and women they promised to help. A pack of liars all of them; I don't believe a word they say. Yes, even Mr Gladstone—the people's William, they called him—he has let them down!”
There was no mistaking the anger and cynicism in his voice, and Darcy felt he was only echoing the views of many other people all over the land.
He knew there was a great deal of grumbling going on about the priorities of Mr Gladsone and his government, even among the Reformists who had supported him.
It was still another factor in his generally depressed state of mind, and not even Kathryn's presence could free him from its bondage. She was looking charming as usual, if a little pale, that evening, though he did notice, as they were alone together when Mr and Mrs O'Hare had left the room and Elena had gone to order tea, that she seemed a little unsettled, lacking her usual vivacity.
They had spoken quietly but not privately as they sat at the dinner table and yet they had not been alone together for almost a week.
When Darcy rose to take his leave, Kathryn accompanied him to the door as usual and stepped outside with him as he moved towards the vehicle which stood waiting for him. Turning to her, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, and then, in the only indication of intimacy she had had all evening, he kissed her lightly, said, “Good night, my dear Kathryn, you seem tired tonight; sleep well,” and was gone.
After he had left, there was still sufficient light in the sky to let her take a turn in the garden alone. Kathryn was feeling disconsolate and melancholy, quite unlike her usual self. She could not altogether account for her state of mind, but she knew it was related to Darcy Gardiner's present demeanour. She could not define it, yet she knew something was amiss. As she walked about in the darkening garden, with the scent of thyme and camomile crushed underfoot, she was unable to say what it was. She could not accuse him of discourteous conduct, nor even of neg
lect of her, for he was always particular in everything he did and said, to pay her and other members of her family every courtesy.
But neither could she forget how it had been some months ago, before they had announced their engagement. Darcy Gardiner had been one of the most exciting and spirited young gentlemen of her acquaintance. His mind and manners were remarkable; imbued with the charm and energy of an intelligent man, with a keen interest in ideas, he had the skill to articulate them and the will to pursue them, unlike anyone she had known before.
When she had become aware of his interest in her, she had pulled back a little, until she was certain of his determination, and that was never in doubt when he was wooing her with ardour and spirit. She recalled the warmth of his words, the tenderness of his concern when she had been in some danger from Bellamy, and remembered even now, with pleasure, how passionately he had claimed his right to protect her when she had run away to stay with Mrs Ellis in Yorkshire. Then she'd never had cause to doubt the depth of his love.
Yet, in the past few weeks, things had seemed to change. While there was neither indifference nor coldness, she felt he was often pre-occupied and, sadly, did not seem to want to share his concerns with her, as she had hoped he would. When they used to talk together as mere friends, they'd found such a remarkable coincidence of views and ideals, and she had imagined how easily they might share their thoughts and match their hopes. She had hoped for this above all else.
A sensible and practical young woman, Kathryn did not expect that the young man she was engaged to would spend all day, every day, at her side. She was well aware that he had his duties as manager of the Pemberley estate and other family obligations, as did she, with the school and at home.
However, seeing him that evening after several days' absence, she had hoped for a warmer, more affectionate encounter, and when, even as they had been quite pointedly left alone in the sitting room, he had not come to her as he used to, she was left feeling deeply saddened.
Had he told her the cause of his changed mood, explained that he had been busy, distracted by a matter of business or some family problem, she would have understood. That she could have borne—not this.
She feared, unreasonably, that he may have had second thoughts about their engagement or, worse, begun to doubt her word. It was not impossible, she thought, a young man with ambition and the possibility of a seat in Parliament may well be wary of making a marriage that might bring embarrassment later in life. Her brief association with Hartley-Brown may have the potential to damage him and ruin their chances of happiness. Could it be that his family, having learned in some way of her past foolhardiness, was even now persuading him to abandon her? Tormented by a sense of guilt, Kathryn could not hold back the tears. Glad of the gathering dusk, she remained in the garden awhile longer.
Hearing her mother and Elena come back into the sitting room, she went indoors. Hoping they had not noticed her discomposure, she claimed she had a headache, said good night, and went up to bed.
Quite unaware of Kathryn's injured feelings, Darcy returned to Camden Park, where he reported to his parents that Emily would accept Mr Mancini's offer and would meet him very soon to sign an agreement. There were congratulations and much praise for him from both Richard and Cassy. They were justifiably proud of their son, who had demonstrated both compassion—a rare enough commodity—as well as sound common sense in dealing with the matter of Emily's financial problems.
He told them that he had given her his word, that he would be there to advise and assist her whenever the need arose, which, he said, seemed to give her some comfort.
Cassy, who knew how easily Emily was moved, understood how reassuring his words would have been to her.
When Darcy went to bed that night, he was feeling a good deal better than he had felt in a very long time, despite the long and tiring day.
THE AGREEMENT BETWEEN EMILY Courtney and Mr Mancini was duly signed after the latter had arrived at Oakleigh Manor, where he had inspected and selected a satisfactory piece of land—some ten acres, which he declared was exactly the right size and position for his proposed flower farm.
Darcy Gardiner, who with the attorney Mr Jennings had witnessed the signing of the lease, which promised to deliver to his aunt an agreed sum of money on the first day of each month, was surprised at the ease with which it was accomplished. Mr Mancini, having decided on his plot of land, had asked if he might have the use of a barn where he could store his tools and supplies, which request Mrs Courtney had readily granted.
When it was over, they repaired to the house and partook of sherry and small cakes, specially baked for the occasion, before Mr Mancini left, having paid the first month's rental in advance.
It had all been so simple, Darcy wondered why there was not more of it. Perhaps, he thought, it may be successfully applied at Pemberley too, where some older tenant farmers could no longer make a living from their land. With talk of a rural recession in the air, few men wanted to plough more resources into their land; perhaps, leasing it to those who could work it profitably might provide a solution and some income for the tenants. He decided to raise the matter with his grandfather at the earliest opportunity.
When he returned to Pemberley, feeling pleased with what they had achieved for Mrs Courtney, a message from his mother awaited him, inviting him to dine at Camden House that night, “because we are expecting some very special guests who have asked particularly to meet you.” Intrigued, unable to think who they might be, Darcy assumed they would be colleagues of his father or even old family friends. He was in two minds whether to accept, but not wishing to displease his mother, decided to go along.
Earlier he had called at the school to see Kathryn. Recalling that she had not seemed well on the last occasion upon which they had met and anxious to ascertain if she had recovered her spirits, he was disappointed to learn that she had already left with Jessica.
Darcy remembered then that Julian and Jessica had returned some days ago from their honeymoon and were soon to depart for France and Africa. It was understandable the two young women, who had become close and affectionate friends, should wish to spend some time together. He had hoped to see Kathryn, but since this was clearly not possible, he despatched a note to Colley Dale, arranging to call on her the following evening and expressing the hope that she was quite recovered from her temporary indisposition.
Arriving at Camden House, he discovered that the mysterious guests were none other than his friend and political mentor, Mr Colin Elliott, MP, and his charming wife, Anne-Marie. There was yet another man, who was introduced to him as Mr Howell, and who, he was told, had worked very hard at campaigning for the extension of the franchise. He too was a member of the rather loose coalition of Reformists and Liberals who were trying to persuade the government to take a more active role in social reform.
“Mr Howell has expressly asked to meet you, Darcy,” said Colin Elliott, and Howell, who had a cheerful, rather loud voice that made a booming sound as though he were using a loud hailer, said, “I have heard a good deal about you, Mr Gardiner, and the considerable amount of work you did to advance the cause of reform prior to the last election. I have to say I am most impressed.”
Darcy was pleased to be singled out for praise, but Mr Howell's next statement took him completely by surprise.
“We have a proposition for you, one which we think you will find exceedingly attractive.”
“Indeed?” said Darcy. “And may one ask what it is?”
“Certainly you may; it is a quite simple proposition. There is a strong possibility that there will be a by-election in the Autumn, caused, we believe, by the ill health of one of our older members from the West Riding of Yorkshire. We think you might wish to stand for the seat and would like to put your name up to the committee. You will get the support of the Liberals and Reformists, of course, and while it is likely the Tories will put up a candidate against you, he is unlikely to trouble you in that seat. It is one of our safest.”
Looking directly at Darcy, he asked, “What do you say? Will you stand?”
So astonished was Darcy by this unexpected proposal and the casual manner in which it had been put to him, he was at first quite unable to say anything at all. He looked from Howell to Mr Elliott, trying to discover if this was a serious suggestion. Then, recovering sufficiently to say he was honoured by the offer, he added that he would need time to consider it.
Anne-Marie Elliott, who had been seated with Cassy, within earshot of the gentlemen, turned to her hostess and asked, “Do you suppose Darcy will agree to stand for a seat in the Commons? My husband thinks he is the perfect candidate.”
Cassandra looked somewhat unsure and replied, “It will depend very much on what Darcy wishes to do. I know he has an abiding interest in reform politics, but at the moment, he is occupied with his work at Pemberley, where he manages the estate for my father. Besides, and I do apologise for not writing to your father about this, Anne-Marie, but it may not be the right time; I believe Darcy and Kathryn may have plans to marry in the Autumn. I cannot imagine he would wish to be campaigning for a by-election at the same time!”
Darcy Gardiner had not heard his mother's response to Mrs Elliott, but his thoughts had followed similar lines. He was not ready, however, to reveal his personal plans for the future to a complete stranger. When he answered, he made it clear that he was honoured to be asked and thanked both Mr Howell and Colin Elliott, but added, “I have several commitments which I have made here and at Pemberley, which I cannot abandon. I shall need time to think it over.”
Urging him to consider it seriously and reminding him of the importance of good representation for the people of Yorkshire, the guests went in to dinner. Darcy was grateful to find himself seated beside Anne-Marie Elliott, and to his relief, the topic of conversation soon changed from the politics of the Parliament to the problems of the Queen. Her self-imposed isolation from her subjects since the death of her beloved consort was causing problems, Anne-Marie told him; there had been rumblings in the Royal Household and government about it. Though Darcy had little interest in the Queen's private predicament, he was glad of the diversion.
Postscript from Pemberley Page 32
