When he had walked through the house, with its solid construction, wellproportioned rooms downstairs, and five pleasant bedrooms and a sitting room upstairs, as well as a large, typical farmhouse kitchen and scullery, he was convinced that Fitzwilliam should make the owner an offer.
The ladies were similarly delighted. Mrs Gardiner thought the best part of the house was the dining room with its view of the lower slopes of the hills. Elizabeth liked the well-proportioned drawing room, but for Caroline there was no place better than the large room upstairs that ran the width of the house and afforded, from all its windows, splendid views across the river, to the woods and the ridge of hills beyond. “I think this would make a wonderful music room,” she said, and Fitzwilliam, hearing her, declared without hesitation that it was exactly as he thought it should be.
“A music room, indeed, it will be perfect for just such a purpose,” he said. Elizabeth managed to avoid Darcy’s eyes, but Mrs Gardiner caught her looking very thoughtful and said, “I’ll give you a penny for them, Lizzie.” Elizabeth doubted if her aunt had any idea what Elizabeth was thinking. She simply smiled and said nothing, for the moment.
On the journey home, Fitzwilliam was eager to have Darcy’s opinion of the property. He had said little, except to agree that its location was quite spectacular. Pressed for an opinion, he was candid. “You are exceedingly fortunate, Fitzwilliam. If you are quite satisfied and can negotiate a fair price, I suggest you close the sale as quickly as possible.” His cousin was delighted.
“Darcy, do you mean that?”
“I certainly do. It’s an excellent little property, since that is the size and type of place you are looking for, I think it would suit you exceedingly well,” he said. Fitzwilliam beamed. He already knew Mr Gardiner’s opinion; to have Darcy’s approval as well was all he needed.
“I shall contact the owner’s agent tomorrow,” he declared, and there was no mistaking his delight. He turned to Elizabeth, smiling, “You liked it, too, Elizabeth?” he asked.
“Oh yes, I think it is a charming place,” she replied, “You will need some new rugs and drapes, I think, and the scullery could do with a good scrub down.” Fitzwilliam assured her that he would have everything inside renewed in time, and new curtains would present no problem at all. Could he count on her advice, he asked, hopefully, to which Elizabeth replied that, of course, they would do everything to help.
When they arrived at the Gardiners’ place, it was past midday, and Mrs Gardiner insisted that they have some light refreshment before proceeding to Pemberley. The invitation was gratefully accepted. They had only just sat down to luncheon when a rider arrived with a letter for Mrs Gardiner. It was from Mr Bingley, announcing the safe arrival of their daughter—Emma Jane, born in the early hours of that morning. She had not been expected for at least two weeks! “Early again, a typical Bingley,” said Elizabeth. It was a gentle joke in the family that Mr Bingley was always early for everything. It dated from the days when he used call to see Jane at Longbourn, often arriving before breakfast. Arrangements were soon made for a visit to Jane on the following day.
The year ended on a celebratory note, despite the background of unrest in the cities, where bank foreclosures ruined businessmen and farmers alike. There had been attacks of arson and skirmishes in the streets, and an increasing wave of petty crime had resulted in much alarming talk, with frightened householders fearing attacks in their homes and travellers wary of being on the road after dark. It was not the familiar friendly face of England. The cruel boom followed by bust characteristic of the industrial era had unnerved the populace.
In spite of this, at the election that year, the Tory government was returned, with some losses in London alone. The Reformists and Radicals decided that the lily-livered Whigs had failed and they intended to go all out to press, not just for the defeat of the Tories, but for Parliamentary reform as well.
Buoyed by his success at negotiating, with the help of Mr Gardiner, an excellent deal on his property, Fitzwilliam decided to try to further his political career by applying to stand for Parliament at the next election. Unfortunately, his youth and enthusiasm were not enough to counter the influence of more longstanding members of the Reform Group. Turned down, he returned disappointed but determined to try again. Calling on the Gardiners to break the bad news, he found them deep in their preparations for Christmas and stayed to help. Both boys were home for Christmas, and together with Caroline and Emily, they helped cheer him up.
When it came to Christmas, the Gardiners were traditionalists. It was their turn to host the festive family gathering, and they took it very seriously. Mrs Gardiner and her cook prepared large quantities of traditional fare, and the children spent many hours hanging decorations and choosing gifts for each other and their parents.
Fitzwilliam, who had never experienced this type of Christmas at home, found the warmth and friendliness of their household irresistible. As his own place was unlikely to be ready before the New Year, he was still staying at Pemberley but, in fact, was spending more and more time at Oakleigh, on matters of business as well as pleasure. Elizabeth, who came over on occasion to lend a helping hand, was not surprised to find Fitzwilliam there, as he had often spent the day with them. It was of no use to offer him a seat in her carriage; he always preferred to stay on and ride home later.
On Christmas Eve, Caroline and Emily were expected at Pemberley to help with the children’s Christmas party. Fitzwilliam set off shortly after noon to fetch them. When they arrived at Pemberley, closer to five than four o’clock, there was only Caroline. Emily had become ill, having eaten too many nuts and sweets, they said. Georgiana, who had been waiting very patiently, was so grateful to have her help with the children, she rushed Caroline indoors and waved Fitzwilliam into the drawing room.
Elizabeth, however, had been watching from her favourite window and could not fail to notice the glow of pleasure that seemed to wrap them and the easy familiarity with which young Caroline gave her companion her hand, so he could help her out and then appeared to be in no great hurry to withdraw it, after she had alighted from the carriage.
Fitzwilliam had the look of a young man who had somehow lost control of his feelings. He smiled unnecessarily and for too long, he appeared to feel no need of food or drink, he was unfailingly polite to everyone while appearing not to hear a word anyone said, and he kept looking around the room until he found the one face he wanted to see. To Lizzie, the symptoms were unmistakeable.
Halfway through the evening, Elizabeth happened to be standing beside Dr Grantley and Georgiana, when Caroline appeared with one of the little children, who had become unwell. The speed with which Fitzwilliam rushed to her side to help and the concern he showed for her, because she had carried the child, who was not at all heavy, brought a smile to their lips, and Dr Grantley whispered something to Georgiana, which Elizabeth could not hear, but which she was quite sure was a reference to the couple they were observing.
Later that evening, Mr Gardiner arrived to take his daughter home, and Elizabeth was relieved, not because they had been guilty of unseemly or censurable behaviour, but because she feared for them. She loved Caroline as if she was her own sister, and while she was confident of her virtue and Fitzwilliam’s integrity, she could not help worrying about the consequences of their romantic involvement. She recalled Jane’s sorrow, her own unhappiness, both of which were short-lived and had ended happily, but if Caroline were hurt at such a tender age, how would she cope? She resolved to talk to Darcy about it, but the occasion did not immediately arise.
J
Christmas Day was busy and crowded with dozens of things to do, which thrust the matter of Fitzwilliam and Caroline into the background. Not so on Boxing day, which was also Caroline’s birthday. The Gardiners were having a grand dinner and dance in her honour. Fitzwilliam had asked at least three times at exactly what time they would be leaving for Oakleigh. When they arrived, Caroline was still upstairs. Family members were already gat
hered in the hall, and other guests were still arriving. The large drawing room had been prepared for dancing, with a small chamber group providing the music, with two other rooms arranged for the dinner. At seven, precisely, the music makers played a modest fanfare, and young Caroline came downstairs on the arm of her very proud father. To say she looked beautiful seemed inadequate to describe her on that night. In a dress of cornflower blue, with soft lavender ribbons and a corsage of violets, her hair in a modish Grecian style, she carried herself with so much grace that she brought tears to her mother’s eyes. There was applause which she acknowledged with a curtsey and a smile, and then, the music started.
It was at this point that Elizabeth held her breath. Was Caroline going to let everyone into her secret, by dancing the first dance with Fitzwilliam? If she did, it would be an indiscretion, however minor, that they may both later regret, Elizabeth thought. To her enormous relief, it was her cousin James—a young man of impeccable credentials, the son of Mrs Gardiner’s brother John—who took Caroline’s hand and led her in to the dance. Later, she danced with her brother Richard, with Bingley and Darcy and her Uncle John, while the Colonel waited patiently for his turn. It had been an agonising wait for him, during which they both did everything right. He danced with Elizabeth and Jane, with Georgiana and Emily, but it seemed there was only one person in the room he was waiting for. Whenever he was not engaged in the dancing, his eyes would follow Caroline, as she moved down the line, turned, and returned to the figures of the dance. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, and sometimes, they smiled.
Finally, Fitzwilliam claimed his reward for an hour or more of patience and discretion, and thereafter, she danced only with him for the rest of the evening or at least until dinner was served and the musicians took their rest. Elizabeth and Jane were together, waiting for their husbands to join them for dinner. Jane spoke first, “Lizzie, Caroline and Colonel Fitzwilliam make a very handsome couple, do they not?” Elizabeth laughed.
“They certainly do, Jane, and only a blind man could fail to see that they are in love.” Jane smiled. Neither were prepared to say anything more, at the time. END OF PART ONE THE PEMBERLEY CHRONICLES
Part Two
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A marriage of true minds
T
HE MORNING OF GEORGIANA Darcy’s wedding day dawned crisp and fresh, as though Nature herself knew this was a very special day at Pemberley. And indeed, it was. There had not been a young woman
married from this great house in two generations, and this was a very special young woman. Nowhere was there a single voice that wished her anything but the greatest happiness.
Elizabeth awoke early, unable to sleep with excitement and anticipation. During the five years that she had known her young sister-in-law, she had grown to love her dearly. There was, truly, no one, apart from her own beloved sister Jane, for whom she had felt such warmth and affection. Her husband was well aware of and greatly appreciated Elizabeth’s efforts to cultivate the relationship, which he felt had been wholly beneficial to his sister, transforming her from a shy, rather diffident young girl with very little self-confidence, into a charming and talented young woman.
Elizabeth was disinclined to take all the credit her husband wished to accord her for Georgiana’s development, sharing it gladly with Dr Grantley, whose maturity, intelligence, and excellent judgement she greatly admired. But, no one who had known the awkward fifteen-year-old Miss Darcy and watched her emerge slowly into the sunlight like a butterfly from a chrysalis, could doubt the value of Elizabeth’s influence upon her.
Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, was one whose doting eye could see no fault in either her Master or his sister. Yet, she had acknowledged Elizabeth’s part. As they made the final preparations for the wedding, Elizabeth had said, “It is going to be an important day for all of us, Mrs Reynolds, not just for Miss Georgiana.” Mrs Reynolds agreed that they had all waited many years for such an occasion at Pemberley, adding in her quiet way, “It is indeed a very special day, Ma’am, and if I may say so, we all know how much is owed to you and your sister—Mrs Bingley.”
Elizabeth had been pleasantly surprised by her lavish praise of both herself and Jane, for their kindness to Miss Darcy. “You see, Ma’am,” she explained, “With her dear mother gone, there was no one to set her an example. The Master was very loving and did all he could for her, but it is not the same, is it, Ma’am?” Elizabeth agreed that it was not, saying, however, that she was sure Miss Georgiana must have had governesses, companions, and friends. “Oh yes, Ma’am, but not those who could be as you have been, like a sister to her. I have watched how she has grown, in herself as a young person, since you and the Master were wed. She is a real lady now. Oh I know she used to sing and play and amuse us all, but she was ever so shy and quiet in company. And if you don’t mind my saying so, Ma’am, and some might say it is not my place to say it, but I did not think that Miss Caroline Bingley was a good influence upon our Miss Georgiana at all.”
Elizabeth had bitten back her enthusiastic agreement with this judgement, but her smile had betrayed her. She felt she was in good company. Darcy himself had remarked upon the shallowness and lack of substance in the conversation of the two Bingley women, happily contrasting it with the interesting contributions made to any company by Miss Caroline Gardiner, who was so much younger, yet much better informed and well-read. Both Jane and Elizabeth had formed the impression that he had, for the most part, put up with the Bingley sisters because of his friendship and regard for their brother, for whom he clearly had great affection.
Darcy had no doubt at all that his sister had benefited immensely from the new acquaintances she had made since his marriage to Elizabeth but most particularly from the affectionate relationship that had grown up between Georgiana and her sister-in-law.
On returning from his customary morning ride, Darcy came in to the bedroom and found Elizabeth looking out at the park and the woods in their soft Spring colours. As he joined her at the window, she turned to him and said, “Isn’t it a perfect day? I am so happy for them. They deserve the best possible start to their marriage.” Darcy agreed.
“They certainly do, but even if the heavens had opened up and the rain had poured down, I doubt if it would have spoilt their day. I have never seen Georgiana so happy, and Elizabeth, my dearest, she, we, all of us owe much of that to you.” She was about to hush him and put her hand up to do so, but he would not be silenced. He took her hand in his and held it as he spoke, “No, my love, it cannot be denied, no one who has known Georgiana can fail to see how she has been transformed over these last four years. She has told me herself how much she values the close and affectionate relationship you share. Her trust in you and your judgement, her admiration for your honesty, even the lighthearted fun you have together, these are all important to her. They have changed her life, quite remarkably.” Elizabeth protested, “You make me very proud indeed, when you credit me with all this, but do you not agree, my love, that Dr Grantley has been the greatest influence upon Georgiana—his maturity and width of vision must have materially changed so much of her thinking.”
“Of course it has; I do not deny that. Francis is my dearest friend, I know him to be the best of men; I do not doubt that he has broadened her horizons and developed her mind, but Georgiana needed, indeed craved, the company and affection of a sister, and you, my dear Elizabeth, gave her that in full measure.”
Elizabeth recalled the day almost five years ago at the inn at Lambton, when Darcy had brought his shy, young sister to meet her for the first time. Even as she sang the praises of her perfect brother, Georgiana had confessed that she would have loved to have had a sister. At that time, Elizabeth had had very little hope of becoming that sister by marriage. Her relationship with Mr Darcy had just begun to thaw, after their chance meeting at Pemberley. Shortly afterwards, the disastrous events of Lydia’s elopement had almost shattered any hope she may have had. As she contemplated the changes in her own l
ife, changes that had affected others—including Jane, Kitty, Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and now her cousin Caroline, Lizzie smiled and, suddenly, shrugged away her concerns, recognising how much the love they shared meant to both of them and the people they held most dear. Turning into his arms, she embraced him with a degree of warmth that made him smile and suggest that perhaps it was a perfect day for all of them, not just for the bridal couple.
The wedding guests filled the church, and included for the first time in years the bride’s aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne, while all around overflowing into the Rectory gardens were people from the estate—tenants, labourers with their wives and children, who cheered as the bridal carriage approached and the bride alighted, supported by her brother. Waiting for her was her tall, distinguished groom. They were married by Kitty’s husband, with a homily preached by a close friend and colleague of Dr Grantley, quoting Shakespeare’s sonnet—“Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments—.”
The choir of Pemberley children sang the wedding hymns like angels, filling the church with sweet sounds. Later, the guests returned to Pemberley for a splendid reception. Every eye was turned upon the bride, whose elegant figure was perfectly gowned in satin and French lace. While Dr Grantley had been a visitor to Pemberley for many years as a friend of Mr Darcy, not many people knew him well. Now they were all eager to meet the man who had not just won Miss Darcy’s heart but was widely admired and praised by everyone who knew him. Not even Lady Catherine could find fault with Georgiana’s choice. She had accepted the invitation sent in the names of Mr and Mrs Darcy, without comment. Clearly pleased by the deferential treatment accorded her at the church, as the most highly connected personage present, as well as the aunt of the bride, she was remarkably condescending in her manner towards Elizabeth and Jane, when she met them with their husbands.
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