Preserving Pemberley

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “This is just what I need.” He said as his elbow knocked a length of copper pipe to the stone floor. The noise, echoed loudly, but soon died away. Kicking it, the pipe rolled against another, rendering a peal of metallic tones. But Henry was oblivious to the noise, believing himself safe, he perused the drawings closer. There were details in every stage of construction. Some, being basic in skill, were of no consequence, but the final set, defining the fueling process were priceless. Tearing the sheets roughly from their bindings, he rolled them loosely in his palm and extinguished the gas lamps. No one would ever know he had been there, he thought as he quickly ascended the stairs. Soon, he would be in the privacy of Camberly, free to create his own steam carriage and free to live as he chose. Such a thing would make him wealthy beyond his dreams… and well beyond that of the Darcys. Such was his glee; Henry did not see the figure standing in the library until it was too late. The man, dressed in the livery of a footman, stood with arms flexed in defense as he demanded an explanation.

  “Just what do you think you are doing? No one steals from Pemberley!”

  Despite his surprise, Henry simply waved the man away. No servant was going to dictate what he could and could not do.

  “Who are you to question what I do? Darcy and I are old friends. I was simply retrieving some documents upon which I requested his opinion. Nothing to concern a servant. Don’t you have work of some sort?”

  Stepping forward to block Henry’s exit, Edwin recognized the papers clutched tightly in the intruder’s hands. Crumpled were the sketches that would possibly allow him to see a future away from servitude. As he reached forward to take the drawings, Henry Wainright, in a fashion more fitting to a dockworker, swung his fist upwards. The sound of bone hitting bone was squelched by a piercing scream as Edwin, reeling from the blow, raised his own hand to retaliate. In the doorway, a white-faced Georgiana Darcy, stared in anger. Mary Bennet, with her own small fists clenched prepared to defend the young man of whom they were so fond.

  “Henry! What are you doing?” Georgiana shouted as Mary let out another eardrum rendering shriek for help.

  “This Person attacked me! I was simply defending myself. I shall be bringing up charges! How dare a servant strike a man of my status!”

  “Self defense my foot! What were you doing in here? And what have you in your hands?”

  By now, Edwin had recovered himself and stood to one side as a small army of servants arrived to answer the distress call. With reinforcements of such a size, it was with a show of bravado that Georgiana took the documents from Henry.

  “Stealing from me, were you? You are a pathetic specimen of a man… go ahead, take them. I don’t believe for a moment that you possess the intellect to buckle your own shoes without assistance, let alone build something of value. But, hear me now… if you ever dare to set foot on even a single blade of grass that belongs to Pemberley it won’t be the authorities that you need fear. I will shoot you on sight! Now GET OUT!”

  ~37~

  It was this tale, embellished by exaggerations supplied by all who witnessed, that was told to Elizabeth and Darcy upon their return. The only omission, was the delicate care given to one Edwin Stokes by the lady of the house. Georgiana herself had insisted upon seeing to the application of plaster and ordering of the doctor.

  “You are much too valuable to me to suffer permanent damage.”

  Her voice, had given every impression of sounding most practical, but the softness of her eyes and gentleness of her touch gave evidence to her true feelings. However, no one dared speak of such awkward situations, for they all knew the impossibility of it. And, there were greater things upon which to focus their concerns. Elizabeth, in relaying the series of unfortunate events at Longbourn, offered permanent hospitality to Mary.

  “I do appreciate it. Pemberley has been my safe haven, but my place is with Papa and Kitty. After the competition, I will return to Longbourn, Papa will need me.”

  Elizabeth understood, but did not envy her sister. Longbourn would be a difficult place to endure, at least until her mother found something else to occupy her mind. With the contingent of conspirators now reunited, the dilemma of how to proceed lay before them.

  “This took months to build, with the exposition and race only two weeks away we must withdraw our application. It simply is not safe.” Darcy insisted, but his logic fell on deaf ears as all protested.

  Upon inspection of the damaged carriage, Elizabeth was thoughtful. Surely it was not so far gone?

  “I can easily redraw the plans. What Henry took was truly of no value. Much of what we have has changed, and besides, it was flawed,” she offered.

  “Exactly, I cannot risk another person getting injured.” Darcy insisted.

  “Honestly, it was my fault entirely. I was so anxious to test drive it that the engine was not entirely enclosed. I wanted to see how the machine engaged as we drove,” Trevithick acknowledged, but his bandaged face bore evidence of the cost of neglect.

  “I could drive next time,” Edwin offered.

  “Or me…” Mary suggested.

  “Another driver is an option, but I still say the risk is too great,” Darcy replied.

  During this exchange, Elizabeth and Georgiana were whispering and pointing to an area on the engine box. Retrieving her damaged sketchbook, Elizabeth hastily drew as Georgiana, animated in her details, gave dimensions and specifications.

  “Whatever are you two scheming?”

  “Oh, just a solution to all of our problems. Elizabeth is positively brilliant!” Georgiana answered.

  “Indeed, but we are not mind readers, do tell,” Darcy agreed.

  “It is simplicity at its best! If we install a small lever, like the top of a teakettle, any excess steam can be released. The driver need only watch for overheating. It can also be manually opened for further control, and If the engine box is turned ninety degrees, any hot steam will be directed away. Right now, everything points to the passenger compartment.”

  Richard Trevithick, taking the rough drawing in his hands, held it against the damaged engine and nodded.

  “This could definitely work, and we won’t have to do much to make the changes.”

  “Well, if you are sure… I cannot fight you all, but I insist that Edwin be our driver. It must be presumed that many of our potential buyers will want someone to drive them about. And, while I have the highest regard for the ladies, society may not be ready to receive this level of equality. Oxford dons are not the most forward of thinkers when it came to issues of gender. Perhaps when successful, Georgiana or Mary could demonstrate as an advertisement of safety. What do you think?”

  A solid round of agreement was met, and the workers spent the next hours making it a reality.

  ~38~

  For the next fortnight, final touches were made to the Pemberley steam carriage, including three successful test drives. Of this process, Elizabeth was filled with a mixture of happiness and disappointment. With Darcy aware of her pregnancy, he had insisted that she take not the slightest risk. That had meant remaining on the side of the road as the carriage rattled away. It was like seeing a child take their first steps, but not being able to hold their hand. But soon, the exposition and race at Oxford was just a day away. They had chosen to arrive a few days early and stay at a local hotel. The added expense was considerable as the carriage needed to be transported by a team of horses, in addition to the entry fees. However, first impressions were important ones and appearances needed to be maintained. Even Edwin Stokes was dressed for the occasion. Having refused the offer of money for a suit of gentleman’s clothes, he had dipped precariously into his carefully hoarded savings. To his mind, it was worth it, for this was the place where his future could begin. Being treated as an equal by those so long deemed superior, he was in constant fear of giving away his façade. It was only the comforting presence of Miss Georgiana Darcy as she took his arm in escort that allowed him to relax.

  The first day of the compet
ition was to take place inside a large tent. There, lined up like shoes, were varying steam carriages of all description. Every sponsoring family or company had banners of advertisement. Pemberley’s resplendent in navy blue and gold, looked every bit the front runner. It was the only carriage to boast a wind screen, canopy and padded seats. The rest were rough boxy contraptions in comparison. With nearly two dozen competitors, they were anxious to be done with the show and begin the actual race, but it was here, that business connections were made. Leaving Edwin and Trevithick to explain the mechanics and driving operation, Darcy and Elizabeth, made the rounds, meeting all the other financial backers.

  “Hey there Darcy! Surrounded by beauty as always.”

  “Good to see you Ringwald, might I introduce my wife Elizabeth?”

  “Your wife? How has this miracle come to pass? I thought you the eternal bachelor. Much has changed since I last saw you.”

  Elizabeth smiled, and exchanged pleasantries with Lord Arthur Ringwald, before excusing herself to find the younger ladies. “I don’t want them wandering off and missing the judging,” she said, but Darcy knew it was just an excuse to allow him some privacy. Many gentlemen were hesitant to speak of mechanical things or financial matters before a lady. Her absence would allow him to dig for a bit of information.

  “It has been a few years, but I noticed your family has sponsored a builder. Not quite the carriage from Pemberley, but definitely a strong contender from the looks of it.”

  “As usual, nothing compares to anything from Pemberley. But I will argue that ours is faster.”

  “No doubt.” Darcy replied. Arthur Ringwald and he had shared accommodations during his brief time at Oxford. In addition to a shared love of how mechanical things worked, they often discussed more serious topics. Both men, despite their considerable wealth, realized that the world was a constantly changing place. Neither could rely upon agriculture and tenant rents to completely support their estates. Alternative streams of income were the wave of the future and needed for sustainability.

  “The grand prize is ten thousand and a royal charter for development. Quite appealing, don’t you think?” Arthur asked, knowing that Darcy would not be present if it were not profitable.

  “I hope to acquire individual contracts, perhaps develop a small manufacturing operation. Although I will always love the feeling of being on horseback, the way of travel is changing rapidly. Have you had an opportunity to appraise the rest of the field?”

  “Of course, and in detail. I have my team of workers taking detailed notes on every one… that is all but Wainright’s… he has not shown. Isn’t he a neighbor of yours? Camberly Abbey?”

  Ringwald gestured to the sole empty space remaining in the competitor’s gallery. Darcy, following his friend’s direction, smiled wryly but did not divulge any information. It had not surprised him to see Henry’s name on the list of entries, but galled him deeply that it was only due to theft.

  “Knowing Henry, he is probably waiting to make a grand entrance.”

  “Always the show off,” Arthur agreed as the gong sounded to alert the throng of people to take their places.

  “Well then, let the best man win! Good luck to you and let it not be so long between us. My Angeline would love to meet your Elizabeth.”

  “Of that, you have my promise,” Darcy replied and made his way back to their designated area. The last to arrive, he took his place behind Richard Trevithick and Edwin Stokes. As a sponsor and not an official engineer or driver, he would be forced to watch the entire proceedings until the race was over. For once, Darcy wished he had not such an elevated place in society, sometimes it was a burden that prevented participation in public events. But today, the social classes blended a bit and he allowed a smile to crack his reserve. He was going to have a bit of fun, even if it meant bending the rules. Such was his excitement, all thoughts of where Henry Wainright might be were forgotten.

  *****

  Henry Wainright had fully intended to partake in the Oxford steam carriage competition. He had gone so far as to pay the considerable entrance fee and order the decorative banner bearing his family name. Building the framework and passenger sections had been easy. However, when it came to the propulsion, he had been besieged by one setback after another. Peering at the Pemberley drawings until his eyes burned, he could not manage to duplicate the steam works successfully. Every attempt made to start the engine had resulted in one leak after another, with the last one sending a searing stream of water burning across his midsection.

  “What did they do differently?” he shouted to the damp stone walls of his dungeon workshop, but only a family of mice returned his shouts. At a level nearly fifty feet below that of the servant’s hall, no noise penetrated the ancient slabs of granite. Even when Henry fired up the engine one final time, no sound was heard. In an attempt to build pressure inside the faulty machine, he went beyond any safe measure. No whistle of seam, no scraping of metal against metal, no echo of metal hitting stone walls and no scream of pain, was even noticed when the faulty engine exploded. Even the slight tremble of the foundations, shaking from the blast went without a shrug. After all, old houses did tend to settle occasionally. To the residents of Camberly Abbey, it was just another day. the demise of their master would go unnoticed until the unpleasant odor of his decaying flesh warranted inspection of the dungeons nearly a week later.

  “He was always fooling about with such things as a child, it is no wonder that this is how he met his end,” chided the ancient housekeeper as the remains were carried out. She, nor any other person present cared a whit for the loss of Henry Wainright.

  ~39~

  Oblivious to the demise of their neighbor, the Darcy’s eagerly awaited the start of the actual racing. Having received excellent marks at the exhibition, they considered the opinions nothing if the carriage did not perform well on the road.

  “I do hope we win!” Georgiana exclaimed wistfully.

  “We must not get over confident. While I must admit to a degree of pride in our appearances, the road will be the true test,” Elizabeth cautioned.

  Smiling, she could hardly contain her own pleasure as the competitors lined up their entries. Although only one driver was permitted, her husband seemed like a boy at Christmas as he assisted Mr. Trevithick in performing one last check of the components and give what advice they could to Edwin Stokes.

  “Now remember, if she starts to veer too much to one side or the other, that is a signal that the engine is running too hot. Slow down, even if it means losing, it is far better to demonstrate a safe but slower ride than a dangerous one. The end goal is to convince the ton that our carriage is suitable for families, not spendthrift young men,” Darcy insisted.

  “Indeed, we want this to be profitable, not a bit of sideshow,” Richard agreed.

  “I will do my best sir,” Edwin replied and tried to hide his shaking hands. He was so nervous that the fear of ruining all their work threatened to make him ill. Swallowing heavily, he donned his gloves and a protective pair of goggles. Despite the addition of a windscreen, the proximity of other drivers threatened to create considerable dust. He might look the fool, but it was better to be safe than sorry. It was only when the engine was primed and puffing steadily, did his nerves calm and he was able to steer the carriage into place just minutes before the start. Looking past his competitors, Edwin felt his heart flutter as the slim form of Georgiana Darcy eagerly waved a handkerchief. All of this was for her, to earn her admiration, and he would do it. Taking her lovely image with him, he focused upon the master of ceremonies as good luck was wished upon them all. Holding a small pistol, the race official pointed the barrel into the air before shouting his orders.

  “Drivers, upon my mark… ready?... Steady…. GO!” he shouted as the sharp crack of gunfire, barely heard over the engines, sent them careening down the road.

  At first, all was clouds of dust and noise as Edwin did his best to steer clear of the others. Many, with inferior desi
gn, wobbled precariously near. Increasing his speed slowly, he soon drew away from the crowd, but Edwin was not alone. Three other carriages kept pace with the Pemberley vehicle. Being heavier and larger as to carry more passengers, it was not long before three of the smaller competitors were pulling away. Resisting the urge to accelerate, Edwin kept his eyes on the upcoming curve. A tight turn, signifying the half-way point, he prepared to maneuver. It was then that trouble began. Of the carriages before him, a flashy red painted machine began to weave across his lane. Fearing a collision, Edwin swerved to one side, narrowly missing the intruder as the driver lost control and drove into a pasture filled with sheep. Looking back as he passed, Edwin saw plumes of steam and black smoke as the damaged carriage came to a stop. The driver, unharmed but furious, demonstrated his frustrations by kicking the front wheel. Chuckling softly, Edwin returned his gaze to his own race. The two remaining carriages ahead were now some yards in the distance. He could see the drivers shouting at each other, but their words, of encouragement or ridicule, could not be heard. Accelerating, Edwin closed the gap, but felt the steering wheel shudder under the pressure, pulling the carriage sharply to the left. Fearing another disaster, he pulled the chain that held the special steam release valve. Holding his breath in fear as a sharp whistle of steam escaped, it was with the greatest of relief when the shuddering soon subsided. Mrs. Darcy’s device not only worked; it had probably saved him. Relaxing, Edwin kept his speed steady and made the turn, heading for the final stretch of road. Only the Pemberley carriage and the two before him now remained in the competition. As the course looped upon itself, Edwin could see where the rest of the entrants had either stalled out or driven off the road. By now, with less than a quarter mile remaining, it would be impossible to win the race. His competitors, while no longer side by side, were still too far ahead. He would simply resolve to have a strong finish. It was with this in mind that he reduced the pressure on the engine, slowing the progress. To all observers, it appeared that the Pemberley carriage had run into distress. However, nothing was further than the truth. Overconfidence would prove to be the undoing of his competition as the vehicle immediately in front of Edwin suddenly darted forward, its driver pushing the engine dangerously fast. Unwilling to give up the win, the lead carriage also accelerated, but this was a fatal mistake as a loud cracking noise was heard. Shards of metal flew about the race course, with one hot pip landing atop the sunshade of the Pemberley car. Swearing softly, Edwin silently apologized for his former thoughts about the fixture that he had deemed unnecessary.