Recollections of Rosings (2 page)

    The mention of Jonathan Bingley reminded Elizabeth that Mr and Mrs Bingley were still at Pemberley; they had planned to spend a few more days in Derbyshire before returning to Netherfield.

    "Jonathan—of course, we must tell him at once, and Catherine Harrison, oh my God! Darcy, how shall we tell Catherine? Rosings was her home for most of her life!"

    Elizabeth had never liked Rosings; it was far too grandiose and pretentious for her taste, but to think of it gutted and destroyed… it was just too shocking to comprehend. Besides, there were many priceless antiquities and artworks in the house that she knew from Darcy, had been collected by the de Bourghs over several generations. That most of these remarkable items may have been destroyed in the fire was difficult to contemplate. Mr Darcy's explanation of the ill-advised parsimony of Lady Catherine and, since her death, a penny-pinching attitude on the part of the trust appalled Elizabeth, who was accustomed to the meticulous maintenance undertaken at Pemberley.

    Downstairs in the kitchens of Pemberley, which, thanks to the master's determination to maintain the best standards for his staff, were far more salubrious than those at Rosings, Mrs Jenny Grantham, the housekeeper, presided over the long kitchen table.

    Her staff, having cleared away the last of the late breakfast, were enjoying a well-deserved cup of tea. They were still talking of the wedding: of how handsome young Mr Darcy Gardiner had looked and how fortunate he had been to have found such a charming bride as Miss Kathryn O'Hare.

    What a year it had been, so many celebrations…engagements, weddings— not one but two of them in one year! And now there was Lizzie Carr's new baby! The young maids could barely contain their excitement.

    But Mrs Grantham was being nostalgic, recalling the days many years ago when, as a very young girl, she had been chosen by Mrs Reynolds, her aunt, who had been housekeeper at Pemberley, to attend upon Mr Darcy's bride.

    Jenny admitted she had been nervous. "I never knew if the mistress would like me. If she did not, I may well have been sent packing; but I was lucky, Mrs Darcy was ever so good to me and asked for me to be her personal maid."

    She was telling them of the halcyon days when there had been an annual ball at Pemberley and several grand dinner parties every year, with many distinguished guests arriving and staying on overnight or for some days.

    "There was Miss Georgiana's wedding, of course, and Miss Cassy's wedding—you would not believe how much there was to do. You would be that busy you had no time to stop and think how tired you were!"

    All their lives were far quieter now, she explained to the young ones around the table.

    They were all very relaxed, enjoying the tales of days past, when one of the chamber maids came rushing in with the extraordinary story that she had seen Mr and Mrs Darcy with Mrs Catherine Harrison and her daughter, Miss Lilian, and then she had heard a loud exclamation followed by sobbing.

    The maid was sure it was Mrs Harrison weeping and Miss Lilian trying to comfort her mother, she said, but she had no idea what it was about.

    No one said a word; then Jenny Grantham rose from her chair and was off upstairs, determined to discover what had occurred. If there had been some bad news, her mistress would need her, she was sure of it.

    Even though they were all curious to know what was happening, none of the other servants followed her. She alone could go to her mistress, confident that her concern would never be misunderstood for idle curiosity. Jenny Grantham had lived through too many difficult years with the family at Pemberley and shared too many crises with Elizabeth to worry about protocol. They were more like two friends than mistress and servant.

    She met Mr Darcy going downstairs, his face drawn and pale, and then found Mrs Darcy coming out of the room occupied by Mrs Harrison and her young daughter, Lilian. There was no mistaking it; Elizabeth looked shocked and disturbed.

    "Jenny," she said, reaching for her arm and moving towards her private apartments, "something quite dreadful has happened."

    Jenny Grantham's heart sank; "Not another sudden death, please God," she prayed silently. There had been too many of those.

    "What is it, ma'am? What has happened?" she asked anxiously.

    "There's been a fire at Rosings. Mr Darcy has received a letter from Mr Adams, the curator," Elizabeth explained and, seeing Jenny's expression, added, "and much of Lady Catherine's mansion has been destroyed."

    Stunned, Jenny stood with a hand to her mouth, suppressing a gasp of horror, as Elizabeth continued, "That is all we know at this time, but poor Mrs Harrison and her daughter will want to leave for Kent later today, so would you ask Lucy to help them pack and tell Thomas to have the carriage ready to take them to meet the afternoon train?"

    Jenny was so astonished she was unable to say much more than "Yes, ma'am, of course, ma'am," before returning downstairs to break the news to the servants. It was shocking, terrible news, yet Jenny's predominant emotion was one of relief.

    At least, as far they knew, no one was dead.

Elizabeth returned to comfort Catherine and Lilian, while Mr Darcy sought out Jonathan Bingley, who'd just returned from a brisk walk in the park.

    "Ah Jonathan, I am glad to have found you, I'm afraid there has been some bad news," he said and drew Jonathan into the morning room, where a footman who had found the scattered letters was collecting them into a neat pile. Waiting only until the man had left the room, Mr Darcy handed Jonathan Bingley the curator's letter. Jonathan, a little puzzled, took it over to the window to read.

    Mr Darcy sat in his chair, silently regarding his nephew, but not for long. It took Jonathan only a few minutes to read swiftly though John Adams's letter and as he did so, he exclaimed, "Good God, this cannot be true!" as he strode back to where Mr Darcy waited. "When did this arrive, sir?"

    Mr Darcy was uncertain. "It must have arrived yesterday, whilst we were at Colley Dale for the wedding. It cannot have been earlier or I should have seen it. It is likely that one of the servants received it and put it aside with the rest of my letters. I opened it this morning."

    "The letter is almost two days old—the news must be all over London," said Jonathan and even as he spoke, they heard the sound of a carriage on the gravel drive. Moments later Anthony Tate, owner of the
Matlock Review
, and his wife, Rebecca, were admitted.

    Mr Tate had a copy of that morning's paper in his hand and held it out to Mr Darcy. The front page carried an account of the fire at Rosings Park, accompanied by a remarkable picture of the great mansion in flames.

    The artist had done well.

    "Mr Darcy, I did not know if you had heard yet, what with the wedding; I felt it my duty to come over, and Becky had to see Catherine."

    He seemed almost apologetic at being the bearer of such bad tidings. His wife stood quietly beside him, awkward, unable to speak.

    But Mr Darcy greeted them warmly and thanked them for their courtesy.

    "I have received information from the curator, Mr Adams, but I am grateful for your concern, Tate. We have broken the news to Mrs Harrison a little while ago; Lizzie is with her now."

    Rebecca asked if she might go to her sister and when Mr Darcy replied, "Of course," she left them to rush upstairs. She was well aware of the effect the news must have had upon Catherine, who had lived all her life on the Rosings Estate; it was the only real home she had known. Becky knew it would be a dreadful blow.

    Jonathan Bingley had been standing in the centre of the room, unable to believe completely what he had read in John Adams's letter, until he saw the account in the newspaper. There were more details and some speculation as to the cause of the fire—a suggestion, quite without proof, that a servant may have been careless and left a fireplace unattended. It was a dreadful prospect.

    "What do you propose to do, Mr Darcy?" Tate asked.

    Mr Darcy replied, in a somewhat matter-of-fact manner, which surprised him, "Well, I was about to suggest that Jonathan, who represents me on the Trust, should go down to Rosings; there will be some kind of enquiry, I expect, and the trust will decide how to proceed," and turning to his nephew added, "that is if you had not intended to be doing something else, Jonathan."

    Jonathan may have had other plans—such as fishing or visiting his sisters—and it was unlikely that he would enjoy the journey to Kent in these circumstances, but he knew it was his duty to go and agreed at once.

    "I shall have to explain to Anna and the children; I assume they may remain at Pemberley until I return?"

Once again Mr Darcy said, "Of course."

    Jonathan nodded, asked to be excused, and went upstairs to prepare for his departure.

    Anthony Tate explained how the news had been received from London by electric telegraph.

    "I am very sorry, Mr Darcy, it will be a great blow to your family to lose such a magnificent mansion."

    Mr Darcy acknowledged that it would; even though Rosings had been too opulent for his personal taste, it had been in the de Bourgh family for many years, and it was difficult to accept that it was suddenly and irretrievably lost.

    After the Tates had departed, Catherine Harrison and her daughter Lilian left with their maid to take the train to London and thence to Kent. With them went Jonathan Bingley and Mr Darcy's steward, Mr Grantham, who had instructions from his master to do everything possible to assist Mrs Harrison and her family.

    Jonathan parted reluctantly from his family. Anna Bingley and their two sons, Nicholas and Simon, were to remain at Pemberley until he returned to report to Mr Darcy.

    "You do understand, dearest, do you not, that I have to go? Someone has to represent Mr Darcy and the family and ensure that the right decisions are made. John Adams is too new and has not the authority to do so. There will be a great deal to be done in a very short time; I expect to return within the week, but cannot be certain," he said as he bade farewell to his wife.

    Anna smiled, "Of course you must go, Jonathan. Do not concern yourself about us; we shall miss you, of course, but the boys will have fun with Anthony and James while Mrs Darcy and I will have plenty to talk about. Besides, it will give me time to do those sketches I have been meaning to make of the grounds and the house. Pemberley looks splendid at this time of year; I shall make the best of the opportunity. Poor Catherine will need your support, especially as I understand Dr Harrison is not in very good health."

    Catherine Harrison was Anna's cousin and she felt great sympathy for her; besides, Anna knew well how dutiful and loyal to Mr Darcy her husband was, and he was grateful for her understanding and sensibility.

    They had hoped to enjoy a pleasant holiday in Derbyshire with the Darcys; this was a most inauspicious interruption to their plans.

RECOLLECTIONS OF ROSINGS

Catherine had tried many times during the journey from Derbyshire to Kent, first by train and then by carriage to Rosings, to imagine what it would be like.

    From the scant information in Mr Adams's letter to Mr Darcy, it had not been easy to create a picture of how Rosings would look after the fire. She could not contemplate it. The scale and grandeur of the building, set as it was in a formal park of much beauty, surrounded by hundreds of acres of orchard, woods, and farmland, had so impressed themselves upon her mind since childhood that it was well nigh impossible for her to picture its destruction.

    She felt stunned, disbelieving, exactly as she recalled feeling when told that her father, Reverend Collins, had died suddenly of a heart attack, which had felled him without warning as he inspected the chapel at Rosings with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Then she had been a mere girl, yet it was she who had had to support her mother and comfort her younger sisters, while still unable to accept it herself.

    Which is probably why the shock was so severe, when the carriage turned off the road into the long drive and there, before their eyes, was revealed the terrible truth.

    Nothing had prepared them for this.

    It was nearly four days since the fire, yet parts of the building were still smouldering—the smoke, acrid and dark, drifting upwards—while everywhere across the once immaculate park was strewn the debris of days past. Scorched walls, crumbling masonry, and shattered windows—all those many dozens of windows that her father used to speak of in a hushed voice, whose glazing had cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh a fortune—shattered now, hung with ragged bits of rich curtains blowing in the wind.

    Catherine gasped. She could hardly breathe, and beside her Lilian was weeping as Jonathan and Mr Grantham helped them alight.

    The driver of the vehicle they had hired stood beside them open-mouthed, so shocked he seemed to have been paralysed, unable even to recall the agreed hire when Mr Grantham attempted to pay him.

    "Jesus!" he said. "Jesus, I never seen such a sight before!" and it seemed he spoke for them all.

    Standing before the blackened entrance to the mansion, they were met by Mr Adams, who came swiftly to their side, followed by the manager, Mr Benson, who had been with the estate for many years, since Jonathan had relinquished the position after Lady Catherine's death.