A Constant Love: A Pride & Prejudice Continuation, page 28
“Do you know if the Caroline has been assigned to anyone else?”
“You sound precisely like him, Miss Darcy, so worried about the fate of that ship,” the earl said. “And no, from what I understand, the Caroline is to remain laid up in ordinary.”
Georgiana wished to know every last thing the earl knew about Captain Stanton, every detail that had been in his letter, every conversation Lord Anglesey had undertaken with his contacts at the Admiralty, but she could not think of how to ask for such details. She could not ask anything else now, anyway, as a sudden hush from the crowd indicated that the performance was about to begin, and everyone in the box began to settle into seats.
Orlando was new to Georgiana, but she found it to be everything she would have expected of Handel, beautiful and powerful. If she might have had a choice given her current situation, she would not have chosen a work where love was so central to the storyline, but every time thoughts about love encroached on her enjoyment of the music, she forced them away and required herself to simply listen.
The intermission came quickly, and Georgiana, having been transfixed by the last song, was slow to rise from her seat. Everyone else in the box was making their exit, so that Georgiana was the only one to overhear several ladies conversing in the box beside her:
“Did you see they finally announced Viscount Burnley’s engagement in the papers?”
“I did! Not that they needed to announce it; all of town knows already. Positively scandalous. I wonder if he – well, it would be impolite to speak of it.”
“Oh, he has been in love with Amelia Foster for years. I am quite certain this was no accident on his part, although they could have done a better job of keeping it secret. I have seen them in company together – completely besotted.”
“Was he not courting the Darcy girl, though?”
Georgiana felt her cheeks flush at the mention of herself, but could not bring herself to leave the box.
“Mrs. Burke had it on good authority from Miss Bingley – oh, I am sorry, she is Lady Harrison now. You know she just married Sir Sedgewick Harrison.”
“Yes, of course. How good of her to take him off the marriage market.”
There followed some amount of tittering, before the conversation continued.
“Anyway, Lady Harrison said that Viscount Burnley was quite particular in his attentions to Miss Darcy. I suppose he was courting her thirty thousand pounds. Poor thing, she shall have to begin again.”
“Well, poor she is not, with thirty thousand pounds.”
“True, and Lady Harrison says she lacks for no accomplishments; her skill on the pianoforte is particularly exceptional. She should have no trouble finding someone else – perhaps she shall manage a first son this time.”
“I heard there was a naval captain courting her.”
“No, that was Mrs. Darcy’s sister, Miss Catherine Bennet. Her announcement was in the papers a little while back. Captain Andrew Ramsey – never heard of him, but then, I had never heard of the Bennets before Mr. Darcy married one.”
It was mortifying for Georgiana to think of herself being spoken of in this way by others in town, although the praise for her accomplishments she could not help but find a little pleasing, and she did think a little better of Caroline for having spoken of her thus. Fear that she might overhear something that would further disturb her spirits had by now overcome Georgiana’s curiosity, and she rose from her seat to make her way out of the box. She was surprised to find her brother waiting just beyond the curtain for her, instead of Mrs. Annesley.
“Fitzwilliam! I am sorry, I did not mean to make you wait.”
“We thought you might need a little time,” he said, looking at her with an expression of concern. “Are you unwell?”
“I am as well as I can be,” she said, and forced herself to give him a faint smile, before taking up his arm so they could go find the others.
PART TWO
April, 1815
Chapter 1
It had begun to seem to Elizabeth that Pemberley’s grounds offered limitless beauty, that every trail she tried would offer up something new and delightful to the eye. Even in a fortnight of daily walks, she had yet to run out of recommendations from Darcy and Georgiana. Sometimes, the three of them walked together, sometimes she went out with one or the other, but this morning brother and sister were out riding. Thus, Elizabeth was walking with Sarah, for she knew she could no longer walk alone without raising the concern of the staff, as well as her husband, but she hated the thought of being followed by a servant. This was her compromise, and she found it to be quite a pleasant one; Sarah was a strong walker like herself, and enjoyed discovering Pemberley’s grounds as much as Elizabeth did. As well, she was quiet when Elizabeth was silent, but conversed readily whenever Elizabeth raised a topic.
Elizabeth was enjoying their present silence; she felt herself still adjusting from the pace of town, and quiet time such as this was still something she savoured. In a few days, the Bingleys would join them, and there would be greater demands on her a hostess, but for now she still had the simplicity of days spent walking, reading, and listening to Georgiana’s practise on the pianoforte.
Elizabeth smiled; hostess was no longer a role she feared, even at Pemberley. Her concerns about beginning again with another, larger staff at the great estate had been unfounded. Certainly, there were more names to learn, and Elizabeth was still not entirely sure she had even viewed all of the rooms in the house, but she had no difficulties in giving orders with an authority she had not even realised she had developed at Curzon Street.
Mrs. Reynolds, rather than being reluctant to relinquish her command over the house, had been quite happy to see a Mrs. Darcy returned to Pemberley, and had initially been so deferential to her new mistress that Elizabeth had to take her aside and request she act with something closer to the level of autonomy she had grown accustomed to over the years. This had pleased Mrs. Reynolds, and although Elizabeth still did not have the same level of comfort in working with Pemberley’s housekeeper as she did with Mrs. Wright, she felt it should come in time. She spent less time with Mr. Parker, the butler, but found he was a master of all his duties, yet with every respect for her that she would have expected.
Elizabeth did find herself missing Kitty and Mary; she had grown accustomed to having them about her in London, and without Kitty’s lively presence to help keep conversation moving, and fewer guests for dinner, their evenings were certainly much quieter. They had stayed one night at Longbourn only; as much as Elizabeth missed her father and mother, she could not subject Darcy and Georgiana to any more time around Mrs. Bennet while she was still in the throes of happiness at having one more daughter engaged to be married, occasionally interspersed with fits of nerves regarding poor Lydia, whom they had yet to receive another letter from. Still, Jane would be here soon enough, and Mr. Bennet had even threatened to overlook his dislike of travel long enough to make the trip to Pemberley at some point during the summer.
Checking her watch, Elizabeth observed they should make their turn for the house. They were to begin making their calls around the neighbourhood after noon, and she did not wish to keep Darcy waiting; the calls were primarily for Elizabeth’s benefit, so that she might meet all of the primary families in the area, as well as the tenants of the estate. Elizabeth and Sarah made their way back along the stream, passing a copse of trees so that the house was in full view, and with it, Darcy and Georgiana, entering the field that sided the stream. They waved to her, and Elizabeth felt a twinge of jealousy; a few falls when she was learning had put an end to any desire of hers to become a horsewoman, yet if she had known she would marry into a family so passionate about riding, she might have been more persistent. They saw her, they waved, and set across the field at a full gallop to meet her and Sarah.
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They began with the tenants first, taking the landau in the opposite direction of Lambton. Elizabeth clutched one of the many baskets she’d had the staff make up, each filled with a bolt of linen, soap, candles, dried fruits and salt cod. Darcy had looked at the items she had chosen and noted the baskets as quite well done – everything very useful, but a touch above what the tenants of the smaller farms might afford themselves. Only after Elizabeth met them might she have a better idea of each family’s individual needs – whose children were outgrowing their clothes, what families might require new stockings or blankets before the winter.
This process was not entirely new to Elizabeth; she and Jane had sometimes accompanied her father and mother on their calls to the tenants of Longbourn. However, when the landau pulled to a stop in front of the first tenant cottage, Elizabeth came to see that things were quite different here. The cottage was in perfect repair, as was the dress of the woman sweeping the stone walk leading up to the front door. Stout and ruddy-faced, she dropped into a deep curtsey when she saw the landau. Darcy helped Elizabeth down from the landau, and then led her through the cottage’s front gate.
“Mrs. Miller, please allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy,” he said. “Mrs. Darcy, this is Mrs. Agnes Miller.”
“It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” Elizabeth said, dropping into a slight curtsey.
“Please ta make your acquaintance, Mrs. Darcy. Do please come in. Yes please, right in here.”
Mrs. Miller leaned the broom against the house and bustled in the front door. The Darcys followed, into a home that was simple, but as well kept up as its exterior. A young boy of about five or six was inside, and seemed startled to see them.
“This here is Tom,” Mrs. Miller said. “Tom, go find yer father and tell him ta come in right quick, the Darcys are come ta visit.”
The boy scampered off, and in the awkward silence that followed, Elizabeth remembered her basket.
“This is for your family, Mrs. Miller,” she said.
“Well, now, thank ye kindly, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Miller said, taking the basket. “Ay, you’ve been so generous to us, just like your husband.”
“You are welcome,” Elizabeth said. “How are your family, are they well?”
“Yes, ma’am, all very well. You’d not be knowin’ this, but we lost our little Sarah these two years past. Now it’s just Tom and Mr. Miller and me.”
“I am very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Miller.”
“Ay, well, time is a great healer, and Lord-willing we’ll have another,” Mrs. Miller said, looking down so that Elizabeth came to see that some of her stoutness came from being with child.
“Oh, bless you,” Elizabeth flushed, but managed a smile for the woman.
Tom and his father came in then, both of them breathing heavily, and Elizabeth assumed they had run in from the fields.
“Now there you are, Tom Miller,” Mrs. Miller said. “The Darcys are honourin’ us with a visit, and this is the new Mrs. Darcy – Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.”
The elder Tom bowed to her, and Elizabeth curtsied to him.
“Beg parmn for my bein’ away, Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Miller said. “I’m preparin’ the fields – we’re only a day or so from sowin’, by my estimatin’.”
“Very good,” Darcy said. “Richardson says your winter wheat field comes on well. Shall you plant oats again, in your other corn field?”
“Yessir. ‘Tis rotated round to the field nearest the house this year, which I’m particular glad of, with Mrs. Miller wearin’ her apron high ‘afore the harvest.”
“Ah, yes, you must let us know if there is anything we can do to assist you and Mrs. Miller, as she draws closer,” Darcy said, and the Millers nodded in response. “And I should be glad to purchase the same of oats from you, as I did last year. My grooms were very pleased with your crop.”
“Thank ye, Mr. Darcy, we’re much appreciative. Mr. Richardson says he’ll be round to talk about what may go good in the little side fields for this year. Onions and peas, again, I ‘spect, but he says my crops grown so good last year, he may try us on cucumbers. Just a very little patch, in case they don’ take.”
“We have rarely had good fortune with cucumbers,” Darcy said. “However, you’ve done so well with this land, I think you could do it. Mr. Smith had a nice little crop last year.”
“He did, did he? I’ll talk to Smith, then, too, Mr. Darcy. I thank ye kindly for lettin’ me know.”
“Very well, Mr. Miller.”
They took their leave soon enough; they had a great many tenants to visit that day. When they regained the road toward the next farm, Elizabeth asked:
“Are all the cottages so well-kept?”
“Almost all of them, yes,” Darcy said. “Those that do not keep up their homes risk losing their tenancy. I have no shortage of applicants for the farms – the land here is quite fertile, and the terms of the lease are more lenient than most estates offer.”
Elizabeth recalled Mrs. Reynolds’s description of her now-husband as the best landlord, and felt she was better beginning to understand why. With lenient terms on the lease, the families could live better than most of their station, keep up their homes and purchase clothing and necessities when needed. “And to think he does all this, and still is able to clear ten thousand pounds a year!” she thought.
To him, she said: “That is very generous of you.”
“I cannot claim the credit for such generosity,” Darcy said. “My father and his father before him put it into practise; I merely continue the family legacy. It ultimately benefits the estate, to have a stable tenancy on all of the farms.”
Elizabeth felt a surge of affection for him. To think that he had taken on all of this at such a young age, and had possessed the wisdom to continue on with traditions which were successful. Many other young men in his place – those like Stephen Mallory – would have been determined to draw as much money from the estate as possible, even if this showed to be foolish in the long run. They would have cared not for the Corn Bill, and kept their rents high, even if it put their tenants in danger of starving.
“Who implemented the crop rotations?” she asked.
“That was my father, although Mr. Richardson and I have taken on firmer control of what is grown. Nearly all of them use Townshend’s four-field rotation – even the smaller farms, such as Miller’s – and then supplement with some smaller fields for vegetables,” Darcy said. “Richardson studies the agricultural reports obsessively – it is a rare occasion that he suggests a crop that does not do well, and I have some more daring farmers like Smith who enjoy the challenge of something new. You will meet him tomorrow, unless we make exceptional time today.”
The landau passed a field already ploughed, the earth churned up so that its richness was evident, and Elizabeth settled back into her seat.
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They returned with only a little time to rest before dinner, and despite the apparent cleanliness of all of the cottages, Elizabeth could not help but feel dusty and exhausted when she came into the house. She did not return to her apartment, however; she made her way immediately to the room that most delighted her in the house – the library.
The lure of this room was impossible to ignore. The stillness, the delicious smell her husband had described to her so many letters ago, the soaring ceilings and the bookshelves with their ladders on long brass railings all combined to make it a place which could not help but stir the soul of a lover of books. To all of this was added most comfortable seating – large, worn chairs – and a series of tall windows, letting in the spring sunlight. None of these things, however, were Elizabeth’s object in coming here. Instead, she sought one of the bookshelves on the wall opposite the windows, feeling under the fourth shelf from the bottom for the little latch. The latch clicked under her hand, she pushed the shelf forward, and revealed the secret room.
It was, as promised, musty and old. The furniture could not be less than a century old, the wallpaper seemed just this side of mouldering, and Elizabeth had to carry in a candle so that she could have any light at all. And yet she loved it. She could not help but recall her eagerness to see this room, and her husband’s eagerness to show it to her, as well as the library itself, the highlight of his showing her around the main rooms of the estate.
They had been married one year and one month, now, and Elizabeth had made her decision. This room, this very private place, was where she would tell him what he likely already realised, that she was barren. That she, the daughter of a woman who had produced five healthy girls, one after the other, should not even be able to conceive one child.
She had come into her marriage confident that she would have no such difficulties, and now was ashamed to understand that she had no notion of what would happen to Pemberley after her husband’s death, with her failure to have a son. She did not even know if it was entailed, and never did Elizabeth sympathise with her mother so much as she did now. Frances Bennet must have felt similarly confident that she would be blessed with sons, although at least Elizabeth’s mother had always possessed causes for hope – every one of her pregnancies had been a chance for a son.
Elizabeth had always felt she possessed ample courage, but broaching this topic with her husband she had no courage for. It seemed to her that admitting it aloud should make it more real, that it would send her irretrievably on the path to a life without children. Admitting it to him, her husband who would happily play on the floor with the Gardiner boys in his dinner clothes, seemed the most difficult thing she should ever have to do, and she considered discussing it with Jane, first, when her sister arrived.
“I knew you would be in here,” Darcy said, startling her so that she very nearly dropped her candle.
“This secret room shall not work very well if you always know I will be in here.”
“I disagree. I believe there are few things better than the thought of a secret room in my house where I know I may find my wife,” he said, taking the few steps necessary to kiss her.
Elizabeth set her candle down on a quite historic table, so that she might better return the kiss, and found herself filled with a longing to sink back into some dusty piece of furniture and have yet another attempt at making a baby. Oh, but the impropriety of it, and herself just installed as the new mistress of the house!
