Her Summer at Pemberley

by Sallianne Hines

  Kitty and Lady Drake walked arm in arm towards the picnic.

  Darcy joined them after also seeing to his mount.

  “You do me proud, Kitty,” he said with an approving nod. “You will have Cara’s lifelong devotion, I am certain of it.”

  He seated himself on one side of Lizzy so Kitty settled herself on the other.

  “You look exhilarated—and exhausted!” Lizzy exclaimed.

  “Indeed, I am both. But Lizzy, have you seen this country yourself? So many wonders and mysteries, such dramatic scenery. The rolling hills of Hertfordshire have their own kind of beauty, of course, but this land is so … surprising! At every turn there is an expansive view or a great formation to be wondered at.”

  Lizzy looked at her fondly. “I am glad you are finding so much to enjoy. The first year of our marriage, Darcy gallantly guided me on many such outings and I, too, was awed by the drama this landscape affords. This love of the land appears to be one that you and I share more deeply than I was ever aware. I wish I had included you on more of my rambles about Longbourn. Although I must own that a solo walk was sometimes my only course for preserving my peace of mind. Our household was often in uproar.”

  They laughed together at those memories.

  “How well I remember. Often it was some disagreement between Lydia and me. She seemed to get her way with everyone around her,” Kitty finished quietly, noticing others were now joining them. “I wonder if she is pleased with her way of life?” Kitty whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

  Lizzy pursed her lips and cocked her head.

  Lady Stapleton and her three younger girls descended onto the picnic rugs, and many happy conversations began at once. Georgiana and Matilda Stapleton sat together, of course, with a delighted Benjamin Drake at the side of his undeclared beloved. Not an avid horseman, he had accompanied Lizzy in the coach. Christopher Drake sat next to his mother, but kept a roving eye on the young ladies surrounding him.

  Mrs. Wyndham made a dramatic production of settling upon multiple cushions under a large propped parasol, fanning herself and complaining of the heat. In contrast to her mother’s puckered countenance, Lucy Jamison’s face was bright and her eye ranged eagerly amongst the young gentlemen, pausing on Christopher more often than not.

  Servants with laden trays were nearing the picnickers when the sound of approaching hooves caused all to look up. Owen shot to his feet, followed by Mr. Wyndham. A look passed between them after which Owen reluctantly resumed his seat, which was straight across from Kitty.

  Mr. Wyndham exchanged a look with Darcy, then said, “My son has arrived. I shall help him see to his horse.” Douglas had not traveled in the coach with his stepmother and stepsister, as had been arranged. Kitty saw a speaking look pass between Owen and Julia—a look of presage—but the food was being served so questions would have to wait.

  Mr. Wyndham and Douglas Wyndham returned presently, and the picnic began in earnest.

  The variety of sandwiches and fruits and cold meats was especially welcomed by the morning riders. Therefore, the bulk of the early conversation was left to those who had arrived by carriage, and they had little to say for themselves about a carriage ride. Some did ask questions of those who had been on the morning adventure.

  When the intensity of eating had lessened, and fruits and cakes were being nibbled upon, the conversation brightened.

  “The best way to know the land is to travel it on horseback,” declared the squire, bringing out his pipe but not lighting it.

  “While horseback is certainly preferable to a carriage for exploring, I am a great advocate of coming to know the land by my own two feet,” Lizzy opined.

  “I do remember hearing, whilst in Hertfordshire, that you were known as a great walker, my dear,” Darcy teased.

  “Indeed I was, and proud to claim it!” Lizzy cried, holding up her glass to cheers and laughter. Lizzy was as well-liked here as she had been in Hertfordshire. Kitty’s heart filled with gladness for her sister to have found such a congenial neighborhood.

  Still fussing with her cushions, Mrs. Wyndham was neither conversant nor congenial. Her complaints about the heat did lessen when some clouds drifted in and gave periodic relief from the intensity of the sunlight.

  The servants came round with wine and ale. Douglas instantly held up his glass for more, but at a withering look from his father lowered it unfilled.

  Julia looked uncomfortable. As a diversion, Kitty voiced a request.

  “Squire, before we begin exploring, might you tell us some of the stories about this area? I have been informed, by a very reliable source”—she looked pointedly at Georgiana—“that you are famous for imparting great life into the old legends.”

  Georgiana, with a mouthful of lemon pound cake, tittered and covered her face.

  The squire roared with laughter.

  “Miss Georgiana has been spreading my reputation as a bard, has she? And I always had to take such care, when she was a wee one, not to make the tales too frightening as she was such a skittish little thing.” He laughed again.

  Lucy piped up. “I have told Miss Bennet the tale of Benwick Castle. But tell us, Squire, has Captain Benwick ever found a new bride? Have any young ladies gone missing from the site?” she asked, her eyes afire with her relish for mystery.

  “I am not the only one who knows these tales,” the squire replied, looking at Mr. Darcy and then at Mr. Wyndham.

  “But I believe my sister is right, Squire,” Darcy countered. “You have a gift for imparting such drama to old stories. Do regale us with a tale.”

  “Ho! My circle of fame widens. Very well. Now, Miss Jamison, you ask of Captain Benwick and his search for a bride?” He gazed off in the distance for a dramatic pause.

  “It seems Captain Benwick learnt his lesson and is most scrupulous in choosing his next bride. He seeks a young lady of honor, and of course great beauty. Any of ye young ladies present might do. They say that when the captain catches sight of such a young lady as he desires, the ancient gods pull the clouds over the sun in approval of his choice. Such a young lady might then be caught unawares in the diminished light and lose her footing. Should she fall, and her hand come in contact with Benwick’s signet ring—which was cut from his hand in the fray, but never found—she shall come under his spell and will be deemed his betrothed, soon to join him in the nether world.”

  Just then a cloud drifted across the face of the sun and there were many gasps from the squire’s enthralled listeners.

  The squire’s mouth twitched at the corners.

  “Yes, Miss Jamison, young ladies go missing every year hereabouts. There are many dangers, natural and otherwise: lovers’ triangles and betrayals, elopements, and even Lovers’ Leap. Who can say if one of the missing has become Captain Benwick’s bride?” He began to fiddle with his pipe, his eyes twinkling with merriment at his audience’s rapt attention.

  After a few moments of silence Matilda said, “Papa, please tell us, what of the barrows?” She grasped Georgiana’s hand in a glee of fearfulness. “Who is buried in them? And the cairns? Who made them? And why?”

  He looked around slowly at each face in the group.

  “The cairns are mostly waymarks, left by ancient or recent travelers—some earthly … some not.”

  Matilda gasped.

  “Whilst some stone piles do point the way, some send travelers astray, to who knows what end? As for the barrows—now those were made by ancient peoples; a tradition that some say simply grew out of the need to bury loved ones on such rocky ground as this. But,” he said as he studied the pipe in his hands, “some say the barrows signify far more. Sites of burial, yes; but also sites of possession, or of healing in the old ways … and in other, unexplainable ways. There are rumors of treasure buried within the barrows, guarded by malevolent wights. Some say such tombs mark the entrance to the faerie realm. Who knows? None can tell, for those who have gone there do not return …” His eyes held a mischievous spark.r />
  But suddenly his mien changed, turning uncharacteristically serious.

  “However … I do believe there is a power in the very stone here—an ancient power for good or ill. It is not to be trifled with. Some hereabouts, who know the old ways, can draw great power from the stone.” He looked intently into each pair of eyes that watched him.

  “And this also I caution you—do not move the stones from the entrance to a barrow, nor step over any such stones yourself. For my part, I do not wish to parley with faeries or wights.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Then Mr. Wyndham’s voice was heard. “And take care to pass a barrow only on the west. I heard this warning as a lad, and thought it only an old wives’ tale. But since then I have seen it done—consistently—by horses at liberty. They pass the barrows only on the west, even if inconvenient. They must have a reason for doing so. I regard their wisdom.”

  The softer melody of Lady Drake’s voice came forth with another caution.

  “And pray, never circle round a barrow, or a church—especially not widdershins, you know, counter the clock. Evil events await those who do. In the ancient tale of Burd Helen, that was how she accidentally opened the door to the spirit world.”

  Scattered clouds again passed over the sun, and the group fell silent. An unexplained chill caused Kitty to tremble, and she cast her eyes to the ground.

  After a few moments Lizzy said, “I did not know you were learned in lore, Lady Drake.”

  The squire and Lady Drake exchanged a subtle glance.

  Then Lady Drake spoke again. “Signs may be read by any whose eyes are open, Mrs. Darcy. Assistance may be summoned on many levels. Knowledge is a tool of particular benefit to those who do not easily wield a sword.”

  An eerie feeling passed amongst the group. They looked at each other uneasily. No one offered up other conversation, and the silence shrouded all those sheltering under the great beech. Kitty sought Owen’s face and found some comfort in his steady grey eyes.

  Mrs. Wyndham broke the mood with an imperious sniff. “Well, in my opinion, we have been sitting far too long. Let us walk under the sun and sky whilst we may.”

  Clouds were congregating far to the west. Kitty noticed Darcy watching them too.

  “Then let us make for the castle site,” urged Lucy. “I have heard much to thrill me; now I wish to see for myself.”

  Matilda and Georgiana joined her, and Benjamin quickly caught up to them. Followed by Christopher and Douglas, they all hurried off. Kitty and Julia followed more slowly, accompanied by Andrew Stapleton and Owen Wyndham.

  The older gentlemen attended their ladies, with Lady Drake and Mrs. Goode partnering for the excursion. The sun had again escaped the clouds, and the squire’s tales seemed to dissipate like the mist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The walk to the site took the explorers through small copses and sunny clearings. A freshening breeze dispersed the heat of the afternoon. Soon the ruins were visible. Parts of three outer walls remained of the structure, none of substantial height except the north wall. A few crumbling lines of stone indicated where some rooms may have been situated. The entire area was strewn with rocky debris. A short distance to the west, three barrows marched from south to north.

  “A somber bunch we are,” Andrew observed as the four settled on one of the lower walls. “Were my father’s tales too frightening?”

  “I am sure the tales were new only to me,” Kitty said. “And I have heard such before. We have our own of Hertfordshire, such as the headless horse at Burnham Green and the hauntings at Minsden Chapel. Tales of mystery are not new to me, although the squire does have a way of spinning the yarn, making it more frightful yet more enticing at the same time.”

  Owen chuckled. “That he does. He has an entertaining way with tales and songs.”

  “How lucky you are to have such a father,” Kitty said, glancing at Julia.

  Julia looked at her curiously.

  Kitty faltered a moment. “Oh, I mean he seems such a fun father, and so kind. My own father boasts a sharp wit himself, but he often directs it in ways that are … less generous,” she mused, almost to herself.

  To her surprise, Owen covered her hand with his and gave it a light squeeze.

  Then Andrew spoke. “I did observe your father at the Red Lantern, Kitty, if only for a short time. I had wished him to be more attentive to you in such a place. It was almost as if you were alone. I had a small battle within myself to abstain from coming to your aid and comfort.”

  Kitty turned to him in surprise. “I had no idea I had been in your thoughts to that extent, sir.”

  “How could a gentleman not think of you, Miss Bennet?”

  Owen’s grip tightened on Kitty’s hand.

  “Hear, hear, Stapleton. On that very subject we are in strong agreement. But sometimes our fathers have burdens of which we know naught. They may not mean to slight us,” Owen offered.

  “Indeed. And sometimes those burdens are known, or are suspected by others, even if not divulged,” Andrew remarked thoughtfully.

  Julia looked over at Owen, and then at her brother.

  “I am sure you two have burdens of your own, even now as young men, do you not?”

  Andrew looked at Owen and then at Kitty and Julia.

  “We do indeed. And our burden at present is to be sure we promenade on the west side of those barrows so as to avoid any encounters with wights. I am willing to defend you ladies from any human foe, but with wayward spirits I possess no wisdom and claim no power,” Andrew said with a brighter attitude.

  The other young people nearby were bent to the ground.

  “What is this about, Matilda?” her sister asked.

  “We search for the signet ring. So as to avoid it, of course!”

  Christopher leapt onto the lowest of the walls and began to walk it like a tightrope.

  “I wonder how high these battlements were at one time? High enough to afford a view of the far-off sea?” He laughed uproariously at his own joke. “Ah, to have been a knight in the days of old!” He feigned swordplay, then began to scramble up the side of the high north wall.

  “No, Christopher!” Lucy cried out. “The stone … it is crumbling and unstable. It is a long way to fall.”

  “Nonsense. A knight of old knows no fear; especially when there are foes to be fought, or a charming damsel in need of rescue.” He spun around on the span to demonstrate his courage—or his foolishness.

  “Miss Jamison is right. This stone is very old,” Andrew said. “Were I a bird I would not trust it, Drake. Do come down and spare the ladies a bloody spectacle.”

  “Oh, very well … when you put it that way. And I would not wish to alarm my mother, with my father in Town these two weeks. Let us wander down a path I have espied leading into the woods. My mother spoke of a stone circle in a clearing that way.”

  Both groups turned to set off. Andrew looked back and called out to Douglas.

  “Wyndham, are you coming? Mr. Owen, what is your brother up to?”

  Owen shrugged.

  “Come, man. Leave off there and join us for a walk to the stones.”

  Douglas had been leaning against the edge of the west wall. He turned away and took a drink from a flask, then clumsily slid it into his waistcoat.

  “A circle of stones … wouldn’t wanna miss that,” he said with a slur.

  Julia scowled. “Come!” she hissed to Andrew, and strode off as he grabbed at his hat in an effort to keep up with her.

  Benjamin and Matilda had commanded both Georgiana’s arms so Douglas offered Lucy his unsteady arm.

  She sighed loudly. “Oh, Douglas, do find your self control.” Though obviously irritated by her stepbrother’s unrestrained imbibing, when Christopher took her other arm her mood recovered. She whispered something to him and giggled into his shoulder.

  The older members of the party had preceded the younger to the stone circle and were standing in small groups talking quietl
y. Lizzy gazed contentedly at the surrounding woods as the sun dappled the leaves. The bucolic setting belied the attested violence of the legend.

  Several stones, none more than knee high, formed a semi-circle with an opening that faced down the path towards the castle ruins. These were a few strides apart, as if standing in perpetual vigil. Some were nearly obscured by the flush of new grass. Five or six strides from the semi-circle, two taller stones—nearly waist-high to a man had they been upright—lay on the ground with the smaller ends touching, both pointing towards the semi-circle of guardian stones. And then, a sword’s reach away, stood a single stone, nearly Kitty’s height, divided at the top, with the shorter protrusion aimed at the fallen stones. It remained upright but leaned precariously. Kitty recalled Lucy’s tale with a shiver.

  The sunset was still hours off but the orb had traveled halfway down the western sky. Kitty suddenly felt more than eager for everyone to be delivered safely home.

  “Human actions immortalized in stone,” wagged Andrew. “Which of your actions would you wish immortalized?” he asked the group.

  No one replied.

  “It is sobering to think how one small action can change the course of a life, or many lives—even the course of history,” Owen said, staring at the site.

  “Bah! You lot are dull indeed,” Douglas said, stomping away with an unsteady gait. The other followed in a pensive mood.

  Once the group returned to the picnic site, final refreshments were enjoyed and traveling bottles refilled. The breeze had stilled and the clouds in the west were building; it would not be many hours until the clouds devoured the sun as it dipped lower in the sky.

  The servants began to clear the site and pack the wagons whilst those family members riding in the coaches made ready to leave. Horses were harnessed or bridled and saddled. The group of horseback riders would travel with the coaches on the return trip; all were weary from the challenge of the morning.

  “Ride with me, Kitty,” Julia urged, leading her horse up next to Kitty’s. Julia’s face held an intense expression.