The threat of being handed over to the police as well as being reported to the army for their disreputable, disgusting behaviour must have had the desired effect. They were clearly impressed by Papa's lawyer, who detailed to them the crimes they had already committed, including trespassing and stealing, the witnesses who would testify against them, and the sentences they were likely to receive from the magistrate. The very least would be several years in prison--more probable, if the case were pressed hard, would be transportation to Australia!
Of course, through all this, Papa stood aloof, looking very stern indeed! Can you believe, Cassy, that these stupid men would continue to place themselves in jeopardy, without a thought for the consequences of their actions, behaving like highwaymen in the very heart of London?
I know that Mama warned me against the Wickhams, but nothing prepared me for their effrontery and insolence. We are fortunate indeed that we have not lost the services of several of the staff at Portman Square as a result of this debacle. However, it is now settled, and I sincerely hope it will never happen again.
He concluded his letter to his sister with the usual felicitations and added a postscript reminding her of a promise to visit him at Cambridge.
Meanwhile, Josie had been visited by Marian Thurber, who, on discovering her interest in writing, became even keener to assist her progress. She had, in fact, arranged a meeting between herself, Josie, and a man she called "my agent," who turned out to be the young man in the long black coat who had appeared at the Dickens readings.
Curious though cautious, Josie had gone along and initially, at least, she was willing to take their plans seriously. Miss Thurber claimed that she and her friend in the long black coat, whom she called "Georgie" as if he were a pet dog, were actually involved in publishing. They were, at the moment, she said, collecting material for a new anthology. She claimed that they had already published several such collections in the United States.
"All we need are some exciting new writers, preferably young writers, who will speak from the heart," she declared grandly. "Georgie" nodded vigorously but said nothing, leaving all of the talking to Marian Thurber.
She then urged Josie to let her read some of her own work. "Not that I am unsure of its quality; mind, I know it will be excellent, but I should like to know the genre in which you write. I cannot think of anything better than helping younger, struggling writers to publish," she cooed sweetly.
At first, Josie was quite impressed and promised to let Miss Thurber see a recent piece of work. However, she warned that she did not write fiction. "You may not like my work, Miss Thurber," she said.
"Marian, please," she begged, and Josie continued, "You see, I have no talent for fiction and no real inclination, either. My work is almost all factual and documentary. I wish to write about the problems ordinary people face, and the consequences for their lives of forces they cannot control."
Once again, Miss Thurber rolled her eyes and spoke encouragingly, "My dear Josie, that is what readers are crying out for. Any scribbler can pen a romance; but to argue a case, now, that is rare, especially in a woman writer."
Josie spoke of Charlotte Bronte, one of the three tragic Bronte sisters, who had died but a year ago. "I admire their ability to conjure up fascinating tales out of the mist on the moors, but I could not do it. I can only write about real people."
Marian Thurber assured her that writing romances was a very commonplace thing and urged her again to let her see some of her work.
Writing to Julian, Josie told him of Miss Thurber's ideas. Despite the need to concentrate upon his work, Julian was sufficiently concerned to write her a hasty note begging her to be cautious, and make no commitments.
He had been working diligently through most of the Summer on a dissertation which had to be presented for evaluation soon. There was a great deal at stake, including the opportunity for further research, and a Master's Degree. Meanwhile, he had not been neglectful of Josie's interests. He had approached two or three persons involved in the publication of journals. One, a fairly progressive journal with the rather unlikely title of
The New Radical
, was based on
Cobbett's Reviews
, and seemed a likely prospect.
Josie's article on the mining disaster--which opened with two lines of poetry and closed with what Julian called "a great rant against the greed of mine owners"--seemed appropriate material. He was delighted when the editors expressed an interest in it.
The arrival of another letter from Josie, mentioning an invitation to a dinner party at the house of a Mrs Freeman, caused Julian to decide it was time to go to London forthwith. Arriving unannounced at her aunt's house on the afternoon of the dinner party, he was enthusiastically received by Josie but not quite so happily by Miss Thurber when she called for her. There was no mistaking her disconcerted expression when Josie asked if Julian could accompany them. Though she made a great show of generous hospitality, it was plain that Miss Thurber was somewhat put out by his presence.
On arriving at the house of her friend and fellow countrywoman, Gertrude Freeman, who was introduced as "a dramatist and free thinker," Julian had his suspicions confirmed. He did, however, attempt to keep his thoughts to himself for a while.
It transpired that the man in the long black coat, who appeared at the party more fashionably attired and, amazingly, minus his coat, was in fact a hopeful poet who had adopted the style and enthusiasms of John Keats with little evidence of similar talent. He was encouraged in his presumption by both Miss Thurber and her friend Mrs Freeman with no indication that anyone wanted to read his work, much less publish it.
There were others present who neither wrote nor, it would seem, read poetry, but had become part of the coterie of the two women and hung around on the fringes of the gathering. Miss Thurber spent a lot of her time actively encouraging "my proteges," as she called them, and reading out scraps of their work at intervals.
After dinner, which was a dull affair, the true purpose of the gathering became clear when Mrs Freeman produced her plan for the new publication, somewhat naively named
The Treasure Trove
(because, as she claimed, it would contain the hitherto hidden treasures of the contributing writers).
The Treasure Trove
would be published in America, and would cost each of the contributors a mere thirty pounds, for which, of course, they would receive copies of the publication--presumably in addition to fame and glory. There were, however, no legal documents, no guarantees of anything; everything had to be taken on trust.
Standing beside Josie as the plan unfolded, Julian could clearly see her early enthusiasm waning as the true nature of the enterprise was exposed. Despite the best efforts of both Marian Thurber and her friend, it appeared that not too many of her writers were either willing or able to part with that much money. For some, like the hungry-looking poet with lank blonde hair, whose main interest appeared to be the food on the table, thirty pounds must have seemed like a fortune!
When Miss Thurber asked in an eager voice for people to speak up, one or two young women, who appeared to be wearing more jewellery than one would expect to see at a ball, seemed to think they would have no trouble finding the money, while an older man claimed that he would be happy to sell some of his shares in the railway to pay his portion.
Julian prayed that Josie would not commit herself and indeed when she was asked directly, she did exactly as he had hoped and declared that she needed to think about it and talk to her father.
Miss Thurber, who knew exactly who Josie's father was, did not look very pleased, saying in a rather false, bright voice, "But Josie dear, thirty pounds would be no more than pin money to you."
That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, and, seeing Josie's expression harden, Julian knew he need worry no more.
They left soon afterwards, and when they were back at her Aunt Beatrice's house, he told her the editors of
The New Radical
had liked her work and what was more, they wanted to see more of it.
"I know it is not
The Times
, Josie, but it is a serious journal, and your work will at least be read with interest," Julian explained.
Josie could hardly believe her ears. Exasperated that he had not told her earlier, she pretended to throw a tantrum, but only briefly, before she turned to Julian and thanked him most sincerely. She was delighted.
As the Summer of 1858 waned into Autumn, the political situation in Europe began once more to concern the people of Britain. While the movements for the unification of Italy and Germany gathered pace, the lack of confidence in the government of Lord Derby created considerable nervousness. This was exacerbated by the signing of a remarkable pact between Count Cavour and Napoleon III at Plombieres, which made them allies and sought to link dynastically the kingdom of Piedmont with France.
Initially, it seemed the strategy had failed when the young Princess Clotilde of Piedmont stubbornly refused to cooperate. But when, in September, she decided that Napoleon's cousin, Jerome was "not so repulsive after all" and she would marry him, the nervousness turned to paranoia as British distrust of its former ally increased considerably. Dissatisfaction with the government and a desire for stronger leadership had led to efforts to bring together a united opposition party that could contest the next election.
Dining with the Wilsons at their town house in Grosvenor Street, Julian and Josie met Jonathan Bingley, who was in London for a meeting of what he called "a new force in British politics"--the Liberals. Both James Wilson and Jonathan were convinced that the only way to defeat Derby and the Tories was for all liberal-minded men to unite. They were certain that Palmerston would join them.
"Britain needs a leader who is strong on foreign affairs, at this time. Considering the chaotic situation in Europe, with a dynastic alliance between Victor Emmanuel and Napoleon III, we cannot afford to have a nobody leading the British government," declared Jonathan, who, despite retiring from Parliament, had been persuaded by his colleagues to retain membership of the party.
"He remains an active campaigner for reform, even though his wife seems to have surrendered to the attractions of Rosings, where the word reform does not appear in the lexicon," wrote Josie to her parents.
James Wilson was equally certain that the country needed a stronger leader and a better-directed foreign policy. "Ever since the resignation of Palmerston, we have had no clear direction in foreign affairs. It is essential that we rid ourselves of the deadwood and get some sound policy in place. Palmerston had a personal rapport with many European leaders--Derby does not. As a consequence, he flounders and so does Britain," he said in his usual, logical way.
"Do you think there will be war?" Josie asked nervously.
James was reassuring. "In Europe, perhaps, but I cannot see Britain becoming involved. Though there is no knowing what perils we may stumble into with the type of weak leadership we have."
Listening to their conversation, Julian felt a strong desire to return to Pemberley. Josie was staying with the Wilsons that night, and he was returning to Portman Square. He had completed and submitted his dissertation; there was a possibility he would be recalled to the college in Spring to continue his research. His plans, at the moment, were quite open. He was anxious, however, about Josie. He realised that she, for all her common sense and intelligence, was still young and impressionable. He had felt her deep sense of disillusion with Miss Thurber and her friends, who had sought to exploit her youth and enthusiasm.
The following day, he returned and found her still deeply ashamed at being deceived by the two women. "How could I have been so stupid as to believe them?" she cried, but Julian was unwilling to let her indulge in fruitless outrage and recrimination, which would only serve to increase her depression.
"How would you like to go home, Josie?" he asked. "Your brother will be back from College, and it is almost time for harvest home."
Half expecting her to protest, to be disappointed at the prospect of leaving London, he was unprepared for her response. Rising from her chair, she walked over to the window and looked out at the trees across the street. Their leaves were brown and the wind was stripping them away, already. Josie turned and said brightly, "Oh, yes, I would like it very much, indeed. Let us go home, please. I think I have had enough of London for this year. Perhaps in the Spring I may wish to return, but now, yes, Julian, I believe I would like nothing better than to return to Derbyshire."
Elizabeth awoke,hearing the sound of rain.She almost turned over and went to sleep again. It was too depressing to contemplate. Darcy had already risen, and she forced herself to get out of bed and, pulling on a robe, went over to the window and looked out at the grounds, sodden with almost a week of unceasing rain. With the Festival of Music only a few days away, she was desperate.
"Oh please, please let it stop," she said, in the forlorn hope that someone would hear. Someone must have heard, or else there was no more water left in the skies above the peaks and moorlands, because by midday the rain had begun to ease and a pale sun had pushed its face out of the dreary grey clouds.
Downstairs and around the grounds preparations continued apace. This year they had called in a professional team to organise the occasion. Darcy had insisted that it was too much for Elizabeth and Emily to handle on their own. "I cannot have you falling ill, Lizzie," he had said firmly, "and Emily has not been in the best of health, either. Besides, if we are to invite our distinguished neighbours, we may as well impress them."