Pemberley

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  'Rarely, it's so much work hardly anyone can afford a piece, but she does have to buy materials. Coloured glass and this quality iron don't come cheap.

  I'm glad you like it, Juliette was afraid you'd be angry that she'd made such a mark on your house, which is why she fled to the kitchen. She's very sensitive, I'm afraid.'

  'So she made a special pie to soothe us if we'd reacted aversely?'

  Elizabeth just couldn't help being perceptive. Nathan merely nodded.

  'I am merely a bit jealous of her talent, Mr Brewer. But even if I had the talent, I most certainly don't have the patience, so maybe it's for the best your wife has both.'

  Nathan laughed, obviously relieved. He turned around and said with humour,

  'You can come out now, Juliette!'

  Mrs Brewer looked different here from the times Darcy had seen her in church. Then, she'd seemed a bit matronly for her what he guessed were about thirty years of age, not coarse or fat, she could be called delicate, but rather conservative in her dress and hairdo. Which suggested to him that she'd have her maid keep a very clean house, throwing out everything that might gather a speck of dust, even in the attic. But now, Darcy started to think the matronly look was meant to hide her true personality from the world, and there was absolutely no sign of a maid. It seemed Mrs Brewer did her own housekeeping. With two young boys living here as well? There was no sign of the two children, which wasn't all that remarkable since the weather was fine for early spring and they were probably outside building tree houses or fishing, but there was no sign of them living here at all. Maybe Mrs Brewer was as neat as Darcy had thought her.

  Like her Christian name, Juliette Brewer's appearance suggested she might be French. She was no taller than Elizabeth and her hair was very dark, as were her eyes. She had long, dark lashes and refined facial features that could have been called beautiful if she'd had more bloom. But where Elizabeth had the smooth face and curves of a young woman, Mrs Brewer seemed a bit on the thin and delicate side, especially in the simple flowing dress she was wearing

  in the house. Her eyes shone with intelligence but seemed a bit too bright, and her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. Darcy felt a bit worried, was Nathan's dearly beloved wife ill? He remembered the young woman on the dissection table, people in consumption supposedly looked like this. Why hadn't Nathan said something? They could send for that doctor from London, he knew so much about the wasting disease, maybe something could be done.

  But wait, if Mrs Brewer was severely ill she couldn't work, especially not forging heavy iron as she apparently did.

  The slender woman set down a tray with tea things, among which four delicious-looking pieces of confectionery.

  'I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy. I've made some pie for you. I hope you don't mind my redecorating the house.'

  She curtsied very low and sounded very self-conscious, but her husband was Darcy's most valuable employee and she was obviously a very talented artist herself, no need for humility. Of course, Elizabeth reacted before Darcy could, and much more appropriately. She shook hands with their hostess and replied with enthusiasm.

  'It's lovely, Mrs Brewer! The pie and the house, will you let me bring Mrs Fielding to see it? She will love your decorations.'

  When Mrs Brewer's face looked slightly blank at the mention of the name, Elizabeth added, smiling, 'Miss Darcy, Mrs Brewer. She got married a few weeks ago.'

  Elizabeth's familiar remarks had settled the lady artist, she did not look upset for having forgotten about Georgie's marriage.

  'Of course, with the famous pianist! Congratulations! Of course she is welcome to visit, and Mr Fielding too. Do you really like it? It's so...

  unconventional.'

  They had sat down on the fragile-looking furniture, which turned out very comfortable and sturdier than expected, and Mrs Brewer was pouring tea whilst chatting with Elizabeth. The tea was not their regular dark brand, of course, that was way beyond the Brewers' means, and Darcy hoped it would be drinkable. But when he lifted the cup to his lips and inhaled the fragrance of the hot tea, it wasn't regular tea at all: it was an infusion of herbs, and it smelled delicious. Elizabeth was as surprised, but apparently she thought it was his turn to say something nice. Darcy took the smallest of tastes because it was still very hot, but he could truthfully say it was very nice tea.

  'You are an artist with food and drink as well, Mrs Brewer! This tea is very

  good, sweet without sugar and yet very refreshing.'

  'Thank you, Mr Darcy, I suppose you have drunk tea with some important people, your good opinion is very valuable.'

  Well, she certainly got over her shyness quickly. Better try that pie, it looked very good. But first, a fitting reply.

  'We have met quite a lot of important people lately, mostly because of my brother-in-law, Mr Fielding, who got invited to all kinds of places to play.

  But they generally didn't serve us tea and pie, they liked to celebrate the famous Mr Fielding with wine and savoury dainties. The only one of us who has had the chance to taste the best on offer in pies is Elizabeth: she had dinner with the Prince of Wales in his own Carlton House.'

  She did not even mind his mentioning that, again, but rather corrected him kindly, 'Actually, my love, he served the best confectionery in the afternoon, when Georgiana and Eric were there as well. But we did not get to taste his tea, there was hot chocolate, and the best wine I ever had. Potent, though.'

  'You were at Carlton House, Mrs Darcy? What was it like? One hears so much about the stunning décor, I'd so love to see it.'

  Elizabeth described the edible statues and flowers, and tried to convey what bergamot tasted like, and Madeira wine. And how the Prince had the richest rooms and the most beautiful paintings she'd ever seen.

  'But frankly, Mrs Brewer, I like your style of decorating better, though it may be a bit too flamboyant for a formal room. But now I'll stop talking and taste your pie, for it is as beautiful as some of the Prince's treats were, and I'm so curious whether it's as good.'

  Darcy hoped it would be as good, or Mrs Brewer would be disappointed, though unlimited resources and French pastry chefs could hardly be eclipsed and she should realise it.

  It was incredibly good, the pastry was flaky and not too moist, which was almost impossible with such thin pastry. The filling was creamy and tasted of fruit, but where would Mrs Brewer have gotten fruit at this time of the year?

  Darcy could have sworn he tasted peach!

  'This is incredibly good, Mrs Brewer,' Elizabeth said. 'It's March, and yet your filling tastes as if there is fresh peach in it. And it's creamy but not heavy. I've tasted pie this good just once before, and it was not at Carlton House, that was all richer and stuffed with expensive, rare ingredients. It was at a London gentleman's house, and Anne said he'd gotten it from a public place called The Old Rookery. Thank you so much for making this for us,

  Mrs Brewer.'

  Mrs Brewer was pleased with the praise.

  'We have peaches in our garden, Mrs Darcy, I preserved some to make pie with. I'm glad you liked it, even if you liked the house without the pie. I'd like to show you the garden and my workshop some day, but Nathan said there were some things you wanted to look for in our attic? I am certain there are two boxes with old stuff up there, I couldn't bring myself to throw away other people's lives, everyone said Mr Wickham had been such a kind man and so fond of his wife and his son. What if his boy were ever to come back and ask for memories of his father?'

  Darcy did think she'd heard some of the rumours surrounding Wickham, the debts he'd left behind, the girls he'd broken promises to, but still the remembrance of the father was more important to her. She was a good woman, and she had sacrificed a precious jar of carefully preserved peaches for him and Elizabeth. He would not forget that.

  'Lieutenant George Wickham is doing rather well at the moment, Mrs Brewer,' Elizabeth said, as if to explain why they were asking for what was in fact his due.
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  'He is a lieutenant in the Rifle Corps, and married to my youngest sister. They have their first child coming. I will let them know about his father's boxes, and if he wants them returned we will see what we can do, my sister may visit this summer.'

  Elizabeth had not been hurt when he'd told her about Lydia being with child again, and she wasn't now, Lydia had been so distraught over the loss of her first baby, and Wickham would most likely be sent abroad before this one was born. There was no way Elizabeth could envy her sister for getting with child again before she did herself. But Mrs Brewer did show some pain, and Darcy wondered why. Was it the mention of the army, had she lost a brother in the French wars? He did not know a thing about her, only that they had been married for nearly a decade and had two boys of about seven and nine years old. Frankly, he had always felt a little envy over his steward's unconditional love for his lady and his family, and never even considered they might not be perfectly happy. But Mrs Brewer did not look well, and sadness over some tragedy would certainly explain her state.

  Nathan covered up his wife's moment of sadness by getting up and addressing the two of them.

  'Shall I lead you to the attic? I have a lamp filled and ready, sir, you can do

  whatever you like with those boxes.'

  The attic was in proportion to the house, of course, and as dusty as any of his own. The steward led them to the back of the space, where he removed several items before pointing out two medium sized boxes, lids closed, unmarked and dusty.

  'Do you have a place where we can unpack them, Nathan? To see what's inside?'

  'Of course, sir, you can use my little study. The light is much better in there.'

  As they each lifted one of the boxes while Elizabeth held the lamp, Nathan said quietly, 'Juliette will be very relieved that you didn't mind her way of doing up the house, sir, ma'am. She was so nervous. Life tends to get her down a lot, she suffers anxiety over things other people just brush off. I try to tell her it isn't all that bad, but that doesn't seem to help very much. Every time one of our boys coughs or feels under the weather she is in a state, she cannot help it, it is her nature to worry. Only working on her art gives her relief, and she was terrified with the thought of being forbidden to practise it on your grounds.'

  By now they had reached the study, a neat little place with a very serviceable desk, and as Nathan put down the box he was carrying, Elizabeth laid a hand on his shoulder and asked with more than a little worry, 'Is that why she is so thin, Mr Brewer? Is there anything we can do to help, maybe have a doctor check her out? I've recently met a really good one in London.'

  'We couldn't afford a London practitioner, ma'am, and Juliette refuses to have a local man, says they're all quacks and they'll just start everyone gossiping.

  She prefers to just move on and pretend everything is fine. It's why she doesn't want a maid, or a cook, says she likes keeping her own house, and she does. We're doing quite well together, the boys are hardly any trouble at all, it's as if they were born perfectly raised. But she worries that they're too bookish to make their own way in this world, even though I think I've done well enough myself. And she really wanted a little girl as well, and there is not much hope of that now.

  I'm sorry, I talk too much. It's just so hard to see her like this, and I thought you might have noticed and would want an explanation.'

  Now Darcy spoke up, at his most earnest.

  'Nathan, you are my single most important help, I could never do without you. I want both you and your wife as happy as I can help you become. If you agree your boys would do better in orders or going to school, we can talk

  about it. And I do think Elizabeth is right, Mrs Brewer does look rather thin.

  Maybe she will agree to see this doctor? I can have him come over, or you could take a nice little trip to London, with our carriage, at our expense, to see him there. You can stay in our house, it's a good opportunity to meet Mrs Annesley and check the finances there. Let the stable boy drive you around, he needs the experience, visit a show, do some shopping. Enjoy yourselves, take a break. I'm here, my sister is here, we'll take care of everything for a few weeks.'

  Nathan knew Darcy could afford it, and the temptation was huge.

  'Thank you, Mr Darcy, I'll talk it over with Juliette. Our eldest is as sensitive as she is, I think he might do well among the clergy. She worries about him constantly, but I'm certain he is a happy little chap. Getting away from all this might do Juliette some good, she's always in the house, with just her projects to keep her company. I'd better go see her, will you let me know when you're done here?'

  'Just convince her to go to town with you, Nathan, she'll love it. No-one knows her there, she can just be herself. And yes, we'll let you know. Thank you, Nathan.'

  Darcy started to unpack the first box, taking care not to spread the dust all over the room. The inside was relatively clean, and it was filled with stacks of papers and letters.

  'Just what we hoped for, my love, lots of letters!' Elizabeth exclaimed, and they eagerly set to work to see whether any were Mr Wickham's wife's. But after reading about half of them they started to realise that their expectations had been too high, for there was as yet not a single personal letter in the stack: most of the paperwork was just that, ledgers of Mr Wickham's daily business, the number of calves born and sold on every single farm in Darcy's ownership, the prices of potatoes for every single day of a whole year. Mr Wickham had undoubtedly used these to make the best decisions for Darcy's estate, in fact for his father's estate since most of them dated from before his passing, but they were not what Darcy and Elizabeth had hoped for. The letters proved letters of business, to grain factors, mill owners, sellers of seeds, such a big disappointment.

  The second box contained similar papers, and Darcy wondered how they had come to be stored instead of thrown out. Disappointed, they placed the stacks of papers back inside the boxes, and Darcy went out to find Nathan. He didn't have to go far before he ran into his steward, who asked, 'And, sir, did you

  find what you were looking for?'

  'Actually, no, it was a great disappointment, just old ledgers and letters of business. We'd hoped to find some letters of a more personal nature.'

  Now Nathan seemed struck by something, and positively thoughtful. At length, he spoke.

  'If you don't mind my asking, sir, would those letters be the kind one would like to keep to oneself?'

  'Yes, actually. You think we're looking in the wrong place?'

  'Well, sir, as it happens, about a year ago we were working on one of the smaller rooms upstairs and had it stripped, and I saw something out of the ordinary. Nothing very grand, it just struck me that a few floor boards were loose as if they'd been used as a cache or hiding place of some sort. I planned to explore, but then something happened and I forgot. Do you want me to show you?'

  A secret space underneath the floor boards? That was just perfect!

  'We'd love to, it's exactly where one would expect to find the kind of letters we're looking for. Do you know which room it was?'

  'It was a small room connected to the master bedroom, let us fetch Mrs Darcy and we'll go look.'

  Something in Nathan's demeanour told Darcy that what had happened had given both him and his lovely wife a blow, and he was not looking forward to going back to that room.

  'Do you want us to do that by ourselves, Nathan?'

  His steward's expression became positively sad, then he shook his head and observed, 'No, sir, you'd never find it. Besides, it's been a year, I'll have to face it some day, and the room will need an explanation or you'll be upset.

  Mrs Darcy will be at the very least, I'm sure.'

  Suddenly, Darcy had an idea what they would find in that little room, and indeed it would disconcert Elizabeth. But she was strong and positive, and if there was a chance to find private letters from his father to Victoria Wickham she would face her own fears.

  He did not get the chance to warn his beloved, it would
have been painful to Nathan and he was suffering enough if Darcy was right what had happened almost a year ago. Instead, he took her hand as they crossed the Brewers'

  bedroom, another fanciful place filled with beautiful ornaments and sculpted faerie creatures. As Nathan opened the door at the end of the room, he turned around and faced the two of them.

  'I haven't set foot in this room for almost a year, though we didn't tell a soul I suppose you will understand immediately. It has been very painful for Juliette, and for myself.'

  He went in quickly, and disappeared under a beautifully wrought cradle with little white hangings of a frilly material. Darcy had to swallow hugely. Not these good people, too!

  The tiny little room was a mother's dream in virgin white, with lace curtains and a tiny cradle made of fancy iron work in Mrs Brewer's own style, with plant-like metal curls and creepers covered in beautifully pleated hangings of the sheerest white muslin. Elizabeth felt her eyes burn for poor Mrs Brewer, and yes, for Mr Brewer, too. The floor boards were painted white, and on the icy-pale blue rug beneath the little crib, he kneeled and folded back the rug to expose several short boards that were obviously loose from the rest of the floor. He had some trouble removing them, and his voice sounded wrung as he remarked, 'I never got around to opening it, it may be empty. Or it may contain nothing more than a stocking filled with gold.'

  Such heartbreak this couple must have gone through, how many babies didn't get to live? Elizabeth had never considered that before Lydia. Mrs Brewer's paleness and dedication to her work were suddenly so much easier to understand. She did not know what to say, what could she say to someone she didn't know at all? It had seemed to come to her naturally when she visited Lydia, but Lydia was her little sister and she had known her all her life.

  'Got it!' Mr Brewer exclaimed in triumph, despite the whole situation, setting aside the boards and feeling around in something that appeared to be quite a sizeable empty space. Then he retrieved a thick bundle of envelopes, held together with a pink ribbon that was secured with a pretty bow.