The Pemberley Chronicles (29 page)

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The birth of a son to Georgiana and Francis Grantley, in the spring of 1822, took Darcy and Elizabeth to Oxford, for his baptism. At the University, the movement for reform was gaining support, despite the draconian laws enacted to muzzle dissent. A new generation of writers and artists had joined the political agitators in calling for reform. These were more liberal minds with dreams of democracy and equality. The poets Shelley, Keats, and Byron were replacing Wordsworth, whose conservatism was regarded by the young as a betrayal. They, like Pushkin, Balzac, and Victor Hugo, who dominated the European scene, used their artistic reputations in the political struggle. The Greek war of independence fired their imaginations with romantic, often unrealistic aims, for which some Englishmen were ready to die. It was an exciting, if uncertain, time to be alive.

Dr Grantley and his charming young wife had around them a circle of artistic and academic friends, whose company, far from overwhelming young Georgiana, had served to stimulate her interest in a range of new ideas and activities. In addition to singing and playing the harp and pianoforte, Georgiana began to take an interest in teaching music. She expressed a hope that she might, one day, find time to study how to teach young children to perform and appreciate music. Elizabeth and Darcy continued to be amazed at the blossoming of her once shy and diffident character. "If anyone had told me two or three years ago that my young sister would host a soiree with such aplomb, I would not have believed them," he declared. Elizabeth agreed and added, "What is most pleasing is the way she seems to enjoy it all so much." Darcy believed that Georgiana was responding to the environment in which marriage to Francis Grantley had placed her. "The richness of experiences offered by such a centre of artistic and intellectual activity is a very exciting prospect, even if one is not directly involved. Georgiana is clearly enjoying it."

The Grantleys frequently attended chamber music concerts and operatic recitals with the Continis, with whom they had developed a particular intimacy. On this occasion, they invited Elizabeth and Darcy to accompany them and spent a most enjoyable evening with the Italian family, who had a sumptuous villa at Richmond, as well as their town house in Portman Square. Their sincere affection for Georgiana was quite obvious. Rich gifts of plate and crystal had arrived for her wedding, and now her son was showered with presents.

The Continis travelled frequently to Europe, and from them, Darcy and Elizabeth learned a great deal about events taking place there. The French appeared to be teetering on the edge of chaos, with revolution followed by monarchy, followed by further revolution, while in their native Italy, liberal, nationalistic movements had been crushed, and young patriots were looking for new leaders.

The Continis had a serious interest in music and were keen to endow a scholarship for the study of English music. They pointed out to Darcy and Elizabeth that much of the music being performed and composed in England was German in character. The Court had extended its patronage to composers like Bach, Handel, and Mendelsohn. "All very wonderful musicians but not very English," said Signora Contini.

"Who is composing or playing English music?" asked her husband. It was a question that did not admit of an easy answer, because if the truth were told, apart from the country people, who held to their old traditions, those who would be a part of the "elegant society" sought to cultivate the style of European art and manners.

Dr Grantley and Georgiana invited Darcy and Elizabeth to consider the proposition of allowing such a scholar to spend a part of the year at Pemberley using the resources of the library, with its collection of art, literature, and music, to study and compose. "Have you a particular person in mind?" asked Elizabeth, interested enough to want to know more.

"Yes, indeed, " replied Dr Grantley, "there are two likely candidates at least; one is a very talented young theology scholar, who also composes and helps with the choir, and the other is an older man--already in Holy Orders, but keen to study and compose sacred music."

Georgiana pleaded, and Elizabeth knew it would not be long before Darcy acceded to her request. There was hardly any occasion on which he had refused his young sister anything.

Elizabeth made her own contribution with a comment that such a person might be a good influence upon Cassandra and William, who were approaching an age when more formal teaching in music than their mother could give them was needed.

It was clear that Darcy was going to allow himself to be persuaded. He raised no objection and listened most attentively to all they had to say. Finally, he said, "Well, Francis, we will leave the selection in your hands, but I shall insist that Elizabeth have the final say on who it will be, after she has met them. Since the person you choose will live in our neighbourhood and be a frequent visitor to Pemberley, which is our home, I must insist on it." It was generally felt that this was a most reasonable condition, and so it was agreed that a selected scholar would start work in the Autumn. Lodgings would be arranged for him at Kympton, where the curate's house lay vacant.

This was the manner by which a young theology student, Mr James Courtney, came to live in the village of Kympton, worship at the church, and ride over to Pemberley each day. He was the first endowed scholar of English music to work at Pemberley.

The people of the parish of Kympton were delighted. The arrival of a young, active man, even if he were only a student of theology and not a proper curate, as they said, would add interest to their church activities, which, since the departure of the last curate at Kympton, had depended upon the generosity of the incumbents of neighbouring parishes. They hoped that young Mr Courtney would use the opportunity to do something for their parish, which had felt rather neglected since the living fell vacant. Mrs Gardiner, who together with her daughters had put a great deal of work into the little school at Kympton, was doubly pleased to discover the special interest that James Courtney had in music, since the school could do with some help.

As for his work at Pemberley, both Darcy and Elizabeth welcomed him and urged him to apply to the housekeeper for any assistance he may need, but so overwhelmed was he by the wealth of material he found and the quality of the collection, that he would scarcely leave the library all day. Mrs Reynolds complained that he hardly ate the food that was set out for him in a little ante-room, so engrossed was he in his work. Quiet and studious James Courtney was a very keen scholar indeed.

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The Summer of 1822 saw many children born to the families, whose stories are recorded in the Pemberley chronicles: to Kitty and Huw Jenkins, twin daughters named Elizabeth Anne and Maria Jane; to Kitty's friend Maria Lucas, now Faulkner, who already had a daughter, Katherine, a much longedfor son, Daniel. News also came of the fourth child born to Lydia and Wickham, another son to bear his father's not particularly distinguished name. By now, even Mrs Bennet had grown bored with Lydia's confinements and could not be persuaded to travel to Newcastle for the event. She claimed to Jane that she was tired of the rattling coach and the dusty roads, but Elizabeth and Jane agreed that their mother was more probably tired of prattling and wailing grandchildren, who had long lost their novelty for her.

The happiest news of all came in the Summer, when it was confirmed that Mr and Mrs Gardiner would soon be grandparents. Caroline, who had spent a good deal of time helping Fitzwilliam with his campaign to collect the petitions for reform, had not admitted, even to herself, that she longed for a child. Yet, when after almost two years of marriage, she was still childless, her cousins could not fail to see the longing in her eyes as she played with their children.

The news that she would be a mother in the Autumn brought a great rush of joy to all her family and friends. For her husband, whose ambitions she had supported while she hid her own disappointment, it was a special time of happiness. The love and loyalty she had so selflessly given him, he repaid tenfold, and they appeared to have that special talent for sharing their happiness around, with a bright, infectious optimism, born of conviction and hard work. They looked forward to their child as to a blessed gift.

But, even in the midst of life, we are in Death.
Two unrelated events happened almost at once, changing the hopeful mood of the Summer of 1822 to one of sadness and, in some quarters, despair. The suicide of Castlereagh, now the Marquis of Londonderry--an aristocratic statesman and a patriot, a man more loathed than he deserved to be--was probably the lowest point in the nation's descent into political chaos. Fitzwilliam brought the news. He had been in London, lobbying for the repeal of the AntiCombination Laws enacted at the height of the Napoleonic wars, when repression was accepted as a necessary evil. Calling at Oakleigh to see his in-laws and collect his wife, who had spent a few days with her parents, he appeared gravefaced and not at all himself.
Caroline, who had helped with preparing some of his material, asked quickly if anything was amiss. She feared he had been unable to see anyone in the Parliament. Was it disappointment, or, worse, had he been refused a hearing? Passionately involved in the struggle to repeal the laws that prevented working men from forming associations or unions by declaring them to be illegal, Fitzwilliam had gone to London to meet with men like Francis Place and the Radical Joseph Hume, but to his great consternation found the place in chaos, as the news of Castlereagh's death spread like wildfire through Westminster and the city. It seemed inconceivable that such a distinguished man, apparently at the pinnacle of his career, should take his own life. The news, when Fitzwilliam succeeded in breaking it gently to Caroline and her parents, shocked and horrified them. That a man who had devoted so much of his life to the practice of government and diplomacy should die in such a manner was impossible to comprehend. Widely hated, especially by the younger Radicals, the Foreign Secretary had yet been, in the last few years, a peacemaker, working hard to prevent another conflagration in Europe--as the Greeks fought for their independence from Turkish tyranny.
Fitzwilliam told of the confusion that reigned in Westminster. "No one could understand his motives, unless it was the agony of frustration and a kind of personal rage against the world," he said, still rather shaken and welcoming the respite afforded by the Gardiners, whose wholesome goodness and consistency contrasted with the anarchic atmosphere of the city he had left behind.
Later that year came worse news, with the drowning of the poet Shelley in the Aegean Sea. He had gone with fellow Romantic Byron and others to help the Greeks in their struggle and was lost at sea. Caroline wept, when the news came. She, having transferred her loyalty from Wordsworth to Shelley and Keats, was distressed to find that they were so short-lived, dying tragically, within a year of each other. It seemed as if the young lives of those who could be called upon to fight for reform and enlightenment were being wasted.
"Can you not see that we are losing the best?" she cried, when Elizabeth, who loved her young cousin dearly, sought to console her.
"I can, and I share your sorrow for their passing, dearest Caroline, but remember there will be others. Fitzwilliam is sure that the mood is changing; people are demanding change. It must come." While her cousin's words and presence served to comfort Caroline, they did not convince her that circumstances were about to improve. From her experience of helping Fitzwilliam over the last two years, she knew how difficult the political struggle could be. For a while, it seemed she would be inconsolable, and her parents worried about her health. But Nature reasserted her own power.
Later that year, when in the final month of Autumn her son was born, the change in Caroline was so remarkable that it was difficult to believe she had been so despondent but a few months ago. Her mother's support and excellent common sense, combined with the unswerving love and care of her husband, brought her through a difficult birth, and soon she settled into a comfortable domesticity, from which she had apparently no desire to be emancipated--for some years at least. A daughter, born a year later, brought even greater delight, and it was hardly possible to recall that this thoroughly contented young woman with her delightful children was the same girl who had wept inconsolably for Keats and Shelley.
Darcy permitted himself a little smugness, "I did urge you not to worry too much, Lizzie. I was certain that Caroline's innate good sense would reassert itself," he said, and Elizabeth had to admit he had been right. Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, continued his campaign, working with the Reformists and the Whigs to defeat the Tories, whose disreputable and discredited government hung on for as long as they could.
It was only after the death of George IV, unlamented and despised, and the accession to the throne of William IV, the Sailor King, in 1830, that matters of reform came to the fore again. The old Iron Duke's government was tottering. Many businessmen, who had joined up with the Reformist Whigs, Lords Russell, and Durham in an unlikely alliance, begged the Tories to throw him out. Despite their distrust of the Whigs, the working class Reformists Cobbett and Place, as well as the middle class leaders like Brougham, had no alternative but to accept the assurance of Lord Grey, who vowed to fight the next election on the issue of Parliamentary reform.
Fitzwilliam and his supporters, who were out daily collecting signatures for their petitions and money for their campaign, sought "Power for the People" in Westminster and in their local districts. But it was a fair bet that they would have to wait rather longer for it than the forthcoming election.
None of this appeared to worry Caroline, whose devotion to her husband's cause was total. "Collecting signatures for Fitzy," was as much a part of her domestic life as looking after her children or helping her charities.
With both her children and frequently her younger sister Emily, she would set out from home in her pony trap to carry the message to the denizens of Matlock, Lambton, Kympton, and Ripley, clambering up rocky paths to reach farmhouses and fording streams to get the information to isolated cottages and often stopping at markets and fair grounds to distribute pamphlets or collect signatures. Her enthusiasm surprised her mother and her cousins, but her father, though he said little in public, was obviously proud of the tenacity and courage of his daughter.
The Gardiners regarded themselves as a family blessed with many gifts, especially with regard to their children. If there was a smidgen of disappointment, it related to Robert, whose somewhat lacklustre personality contrasted with the charm of his sisters and older brother. When Mr Gardiner regarded Caroline, however, he felt he was completely compensated for any minor dissatisfaction he might experience with any of his other children, by the sense of purpose, the energy and sheer delight she seemed to bring to the whole business of living. It infected and enthused everyone around her and gave her a lustre that set her apart.
Marriage to Fitzwilliam had broadened Caroline's horizons and afforded her access to a new, exciting world of social and political causes, which she gladly embraced. What astonished her family and friends was her ability to throw herself into all of these activities, while remaining a warm and loving woman, whose husband and children had the best of her care and love at all times.
Elizabeth and Jane, whose happy marriages were the product of much less hard work and a good deal more comfort and leisure, never quite understood what motivated their young cousin. But they had no doubt at all of her happiness.