The Pemberley Chronicles (16 page)

By the time Mrs Gardiner received her letter, Darcy and Elizabeth had already left Pemberley, travelling through Birmingham, Worcester, and Cheltenham, where they broke journey, before crossing into Wales.

This was now a journey of many shared pleasures, since Elizabeth was inclined to hold Darcy to his promise in his letter to Mr Hurst, to show her all the particular beauties of South Wales. They stayed at little towns and villages until they finally reached the manor house a few miles uphill from Llandovery, an old Celtic market town, which traced its history back to a Roman fort and its reputation as a commercial centre to a licence to trade granted by Richard the Third. The property that Mr Darcy's family had acquired lay in the fertile upper Towy valley, reaching from the softly undulating pasturelands to the rocky foothills of the Cambrian mountains. An abundance of trout in the rivers and streams as well as plenty of game catered for the tastes of the gentlemen, but for Elizabeth there was no greater pleasure than walking. Although under serious orders not to overtire herself, she would spend many happy hours with her maid, an avid walker herself, exploring the woods and meadows, while Darcy attended to matters of business with his Steward.

In Wales, too, the pressure to enclose land was growing, but on Darcy's property, which ran cattle, produced food, and provided many men and women with good farm jobs, there was none. There was, however, another problem that was spreading rapidly through the countryside of the English Midlands and South Wales. The presence of coal in huge quantities had always meant that some areas of the country were destined to be industrialised. The demand for coal, essential to the iron and steel industry, meant increasing numbers of men, women, and children moving to the squalid little towns that clustered around the mines. Smoke, grime, and the ubiquitous slag heaps dominated the oncepretty landscapes of many parts of England and Wales, as well as the lives of the hapless people who laboured and lived there.

Elizabeth had remarked upon the freshness of the air in the Towy valley, but her husband had looked rather sombre and responded that there was no knowing how long it would last. Finding him somewhat melancholy one evening, Elizabeth asked if she may share his thoughts. Immediately contrite at having shut her out, he was keen to explain, "I'm sorry, dearest, it is not that I do not wish to share my concerns with you; it is more a matter of my inability to understand them myself. We have spent several days here, enjoying the magnificence of the Welsh landscape, and yet all the time the threat of an expanding coal industry hangs over it. There seems to be an irresistible power in the hands of those who own these mines. They control the government and are able to roll over the objections of any local landholders." Elizabeth was shocked at his sense of helplessness.

"But surely, there are no plans for mines here?"
"Not just now, but I am told the Lord---- has been making inquiries; should he succeed in securing mining rights on the slopes above the river, there would be very little we could do. The slag heaps would cover the hillsides, and the streams would be choked with run-off from the mines." He sounded so unhappy that Elizabeth said nothing for a few minutes; then, wanting to console him, she sighed and said,
"At least, they cannot touch Pemberley." He smiled and took her hand, "Yes, they can never get their hands on Pemberley, but Lizzie, this is more than just a question of Pemberley and my family; it is a matter of England's heritage; this landscape is all we have. To despoil it is to destroy our children's inheritance. I am determined to see that this valley is not destroyed, if I can possibly help it."
Elizabeth wrote to Jane and again to her aunt--quiet, serious letters from the heart:

There is so much beauty here and yet, so much ugliness, lying in wait to tear it all apart for profit. Every day, we see places of spectacular beauty, but because they are within reach of coal miners, they seem doomed to become part of the great black mass that is spreading across the land. Darcy is very depressed at the way the countryside is being despoiled and vows he will do something about it.

On the last night they spent at Llandeilo, they dined with the family of Sir Tristram Williams, who had been a friend of Darcy's father and whose mother was related to his aunt, Lady Catherine. They talked of the unhappy state of England's rural people. Darcy had heard a number of alarming reports of action by desperate labourers and miners who were being thrown out of work by greedy mine and factory owners, cutting their losses in the face of a deepening recession. Sir Tristram's son, a lad not yet eighteen home on vacation from College, railed against the "do-nothing government" and determined that he would join the Reform Party and enter Parliament, since that was the only way to stop their mendacity.

He surprised them even more with his support for his older sister, Jessica, who declared that women should have the vote, because, "We would then elect some of the right people to the Parliament at Westminster, not just landlords and mill-owners, whose only interest is in increasing their own wealth. England needs some Reformers," she said.

"I shall be one of them, and I shall teach the slavers and spoilers a lesson," declared her brother, fiercely.
David's parents indulged him and smiled at his fiery sentiments, but Darcy said later that he wished he had been as keenly aware as David, with as much determination to right the wrongs that he could see around him. "Unfortunately, when I was young David's age, I was too satisfied with my own life to even think about the problems of others. I see now that the selfish lives we led, ill prepared us to recognise our real enemies." Elizabeth protested, "Darcy, I will not have you say that. You are not selfish; indeed you are quite the least selfish man I know."
"That, my dearest, is because I have, thanks in no small measure to you, learned my lesson. A little late, perhaps, but it is well-learned," he replied. "I promise you, Lizzie, I will do everything I can to teach our children their duty, not just to their family and friends but to all those who share this land with us." Elizabeth was able by now to recognise determination in his voice. She knew he meant every word.
Leaving Wales, they stopped at an inn, where, to their horror, they learned of a dreadful accident which had cost several travellers their lives, when a coach had overturned, throwing its passengers into a gorge. Despite the best efforts of engineers and road builders all over England, many roads were still quite hazardous. Elizabeth was depressed by the bad news and longed to be back at Pemberley--her safe haven of stability in an increasingly changeable world.
It was late evening when they reached the surrounding woodlands, and Elizabeth looked out as if she was making the approach for the first time, realising now how much she had come to regard it as her home. She loved the glow of the setting sun on the reddening Autumn foliage and never failed to be impressed by the first glimpse of the stone work of the house, as it came into view on the far side of the valley. She felt a deep sense of peace and well-being, which seemed to seep in from her surroundings and fill her heart and mind. As if he had read her thoughts, Darcy took her hand to help her out, smiled, and said simply, "Here we are, Lizzie; is it not good to be home?"
"Oh, indeed, it is," she replied, with a heartfelt sigh of relief.
There were several letters waiting for them at Pemberley. Elizabeth, having greeted Mrs Reynolds and instructed her maid Jenny on the disposition of her luggage, hurried to her room to read hers. By the time Darcy came upstairs, she had scanned them once very quickly and was about to settle down to read them over again.
The first letter she opened brought good news from her Aunt Gardiner. She wrote of Kitty and Mr Jenkins, whom they both had come to like very well, for his gentle humour and perfect manners:

Were he not a clergyman, dearest Lizzie, one would have felt constrained to suggest that he had missed his calling. He is all that Kitty needs to counter balance her immaturity, and yet he seems to enjoy and value her youthful enthusiasm greatly. He could not be stopped from describing in minutest detail all the effort Kitty and Georgiana had put into the training of the Children's Choir; their performance at the wedding of Miss Camden was no less than perfection, we are told. It certainly augurs well for their union that he is so pleased with her and she is so eager to please him.

There was more about their shopping expeditions and Kitty's choice of a particular shade of green for a winter gown that Mr Jenkins liked and much more. This brought a smile to Elizabeth's lips.

Jane's letter, which had been written over several days, was more in the nature of jottings in a diary than a letter. She had had very little time to write about anything in detail, except for a visit from her in-laws, the Hursts and Miss Bingley, recording in somewhat incredulous words the fact that they were going to Paris!

Just think, Lizzie, they are with a large party from Bath--retired generals and admirals mostly, who wish to see Paris after the end of Bonaparte! Can you imagine Caroline Bingley and her sister among them? They spoke of invitations to salons and soirees, but with only Mr Hurst to escort them, I cannot believe they will enjoy it very much. Indeed, Mr Bingley tells me Caroline has some French, mainly to read and sing, but not to parlais and Mrs Hurst has none at all. Lizzie, without a sound understanding of French, I confess I am confused as to how they will get on.

Jane was clearly puzzled. Elizabeth laughed and read it all out to Darcy, who responded with a comment that it was to be hoped that there would always be a couch available at the soirees, large enough to accommodate Mr Hurst, when he fell asleep during the recitals.

Jane also had news of Kitty:

Kitty is expected with Aunt Gardiner tomorrow and we are to dine at Longbourn on Thursday. I shall write again to give you an account of the occasion, but from what our father has said, I imagine it will be one of Mama's favourite days. The Lucases and the Longs are invited, and no doubt Aunt Phillips will attend. I am very glad Aunt Gardiner is to be with us.

Jane apologised for the shortness of her letter and the scrappiness of its execution; little Jonathan had been unwell with a cold and needed her all the time, she explained. She concluded with love to both of them and wishes they were with her also. Jane's eternally generous and kind nature would not let her say it, but her sister could sense the frustration she felt at having to shield Kitty and Mr Jenkins from the excesses of her mother, without Elizabeth beside her for support.

Most interesting of all Elizabeth's letters was one from Georgiana Darcy. She had spent a week with the Continis--an Italian family with whom they had become friends some years ago, in London. A talented and artistic couple, they had immediately liked Georgiana, and with her brother's permission, she had accompanied them to the Opera and recitals of Chamber Music by an Italian maestro.

Georgiana wrote enthusiastically of galleries visited and a particularly beautiful performance of "The Magic Flute" which she had attended with the Continis, only to find Dr Grantley in the audience:

Signora Contini invited him to join us in their box, and afterwards he came to supper at Portman Square, and it was quite remarkable how much he knew of Mozart and the Opera. Dr Grantley is in London to attend a Synod of the Church, which he has explained to me is the Parliament of the Church of England. They have long discussions and make important decisions about the Church, he says. He is therefore very busy all day, but Signor and Signora Contini have invited him to dine with us again at the end of the week on the day before we are due to return to Pemberley. For that evening, Signora Contini has engaged a String Quartet, and she suggests that I might join them in a performance of a Piano quintet, the music only recently received from Paris. It is very beautiful, and while I do not know if I shall succeed, I intend to practice every day to master it. Dr Grantley is very sure that I shall, but then he is always very kind.

There was no mistaking the affectionate tone of her letter, and Elizabeth wondered if it was not time to talk to her young sister-in-law about Dr Grantley.
Meanwhile, Darcy's silence on the subject puzzled her. She passed the letter to him and watched as he read it. A slight smile was all he permitted himself as he handed it back to her. "Georgiana seems to be enjoying herself in London," she remarked, hoping to draw him out.
"She always does," he said. "The Continis are very fond of her; they lost a young daughter some years ago and treat Georgiana as if she were their own. Signora Contini is a singer of some renown, and her husband is a very keen patron of the arts. It means my sister is well-placed to see and hear some remarkable performances when she is with them."
This did not satisfy Lizzie at all. She was not looking for a dissertation on the Continis and the Arts rather for some insight into Darcy's thinking on the subject of Dr Grantley and Georgiana. She tried again, using a different opening, "What a coincidence that they should meet Dr Grantley at the Opera." This time Darcy put down his own letter, smiled, and shook his head.
"You must do better than that, my dear; I know you wish to talk about them, but until there is something to speak of, I have nothing to say." He was smiling, but his expression gave nothing away.
"Oh you are vexing," she cried and then, deciding that she was going to play the same game, "Ah well, I suppose I shall have to wait to hear it from Georgiana, when she returns." Elizabeth was certain that Darcy had noticed the growing friendship between his sister and his dearest friend. She was impatient to discover his thoughts, but she had too much respect for him to pry--knowing he would tell her when he was ready. But her patience was wearing thin.
Elizabeth awoke the next morning before the sun had climbed above the wooded hills behind the house. Darcy had risen and was out riding, as he did most mornings before breakfast. Looking out over the park, she was sure she could see him with his groom in the distance, but so deep were the shadows in that part of the park, that she could not be certain. Her husband's dressing room afforded a clearer view of the path leading from the woods. Elizabeth went through the unlocked door to the window, beside which stood his desk. His manservant had obviously been and laid out his clothes; beside them, fallen to the floor, was a letter, two pages of fine white paper, closely written in perfect copperplate. Before she realised what she was doing, Elizabeth had picked it up and unfolded it to reveal the writer's name. When she saw who it was, she stood still as if rooted to the spot. The letter was from Dr Grantley; it was dated from London--just three days ago. Elizabeth recalled immediately that it had been written some twenty-four hours after Georgiana's letter to her. Why had Darcy not revealed its contents to her? Elizabeth was very confused, and against every one of her normal instincts except that of curiosity alone, against her better judgement, she read quickly, her cheeks burning, fearful lest a servant should come in and find her.
What she read only confirmed her own observations. Dr Grantley was deeply in love with Georgiana but had not approached her until he was sure of his own feelings and her brother's judgment. Having met her again in London, he was convinced of his own inability to go on seeing her without revealing his feelings and attempting to discover if they were welcome and perhaps returned. Yet, he wanted Darcy's permission to do so. "Oh why do you all need his permission?" Lizzie almost cried out loud--recalling Bingley and Jane, "Why do you not follow your heart?" Reading on, she found the reason. Dr Grantley was aware of the cruel episode involving Wickham, which had so nearly wrecked Georgiana's life. Darcy had confided in him at the time, and he did not wish to do anything that would cause either Georgiana or Darcy any pain or hurt. Elizabeth soon understood why Darcy had said nothing to her. Dr Grantley begged him to treat the entire matter in confidence, until it was resolved.