The Pemberley Chronicles (33 page)

King William appeared to vacillate at first but soon realised after a bitter Winter of discontent during which public rage and uproar brought Britain to the edge of chaos, that Parliamentary reform was essential, if the nation was to hold together. After some weeks of teetering on the brink and much machination, the Lords caved in, and it was as if an almighty sigh of relief went up all over the land.

Fitzwilliam and Caroline had been in London during the last crisis ridden days. When it was over, they returned as if from a battle, bearing their trophy-- a copy of "The Bill," declaring it to be a modern Magna Carta. The abolition of the system of rotten boroughs, which had corrupted the Parliament, was a victory for the people, whose protests had forced the King and his peers to listen, they claimed.

Mrs Gardiner who had had charge of her two beloved grandchildren, Isabella and Edward, while their parents were in London, asked if Caroline and Fitzwilliam would take a holiday, now it was all over.

"It isn't over," said Fitzwilliam, to her surprise, "Indeed, it is only the beginning. Now we have a reformed Parliament, we must proceed to press for an extension of voting rights and the abolition of slavery."

Caroline added her voice. "It will never be over as long as young children work long hours in factories and down the mines, Mama. I am pledged to support their struggle." Mrs Gardiner agreed that the exploitation of children was a vile practice, but sadly, neither she nor her husband could see any possibility of a change; now that the men of industry had more, not less power in the Commons, they were hardly likely to pass laws that cut into their profits by outlawing child labour. But Caroline, as always, remained hopeful, determined that she would start a campaign to "get the babes out of the mines and into school."

Fitzwilliam revealed that Caroline had already taken the opportunity of a chance meeting at a social function to take up the matter with the influential Lord Althorp who, though he was initially surprised by her question, had assured her the interests of the children were foremost in his mind. It was a matter, he promised, he would address very soon, through a law to regulate hours and conditions in the mills.

Fitzwilliam had been taken aback when Caroline had told him of her conversation with Lord Althorp, but he was soon reassured, when the man himself congratulated him on the intelligence and charm of his wife. Quite obviously, her venture into social issues had done her husband no harm at all. Darcy and Elizabeth heard the story from Mr and Mrs Gardiner, when they, together with Bingley and Jane, dined at Pemberley the following Saturday. "You could have knocked me down with a feather," said Mrs Gardiner, "but Caroline was not at all overawed by the great man. She felt that he, as one of the most influential and able members of the new government, would surely be the best person to lobby on such an important matter." There were incredulous gasps from Jane and Elizabeth, but Darcy laughed and said, "She is right, of course. Not much good haranguing some obscure backbencher with little or no influence in the cabinet." He reminded Elizabeth of his prediction that with Caroline beside him, Fitzwilliam would go far. Bingley agreed, adding, "Her charming manner will protect her from giving offence, where others might, should they attempt such advocacy, with less than Caroline's sincerity." Mr Gardiner, who could barely conceal the pride he felt in his young daughter, intervened briefly to assert that no one who knew Caroline could ever doubt her complete sincerity of purpose.

"Do you believe she is sufficiently ambitious for Fitzwilliam, to put up with the vagaries of political life?" Elizabeth asked. Darcy replied, "It is not a question of ambition. I do not believe she is unduly ambitious for her husband; well, not any more than he is himself. But, each time I speak with her, I cannot help feeling that Caroline wants to change the world. She sees injustice and wants to do something about it--whether it's the children of the poor, who must work in the mills and get no education, or the widowed women who have nowhere to go in their old age but the poorhouse--after a lifetime of service. I believe she sees opportunities to draw attention to these examples of suffering in our community. That cannot possibly do Fitzwilliam any harm with his constituency." Mr Gardiner agreed, but his wife expressed the hope that their daughter would not wear herself out with political work.

"I can see her, a child in her arms and another at her side, talking passionately to anyone who will listen about the evils of child labour. I know she appears to have boundless energy, but I fear she works too hard," she said, voicing a mother's concern. What none of them knew was that the only thing that could slow Caroline down was about to be announced to the family. She had been keeping it a secret these last few weeks.

In the Summer of 1833, Caroline was to have her third child, and with characteristic dedication, she would turn all her efforts to being a devoted mother, just as she had with her two older children. When Mrs Gardiner was told the news on the following Sunday, she was so delighted she ordered the carriage and set off with Emily for Pemberley, where she could break the news to both Elizabeth and Jane. With their husbands out riding, the sisters were indulging in their favourite pastime--reminiscing and planning for the future. Mrs Gardiner's unexpected arrival added the only missing ingredient to their discussion, the humour and wise counsel of their favourite aunt. Her news gave everyone much pleasure.

Over tea in Elizabeth's private sitting room, they recalled the numerous occasions on which they had been similarly engaged and wondered at the way they seemed always to find harmony and agreement, rather than discord. "I do believe there has not been a cross word exchanged between us, ever," said Jane, rising to go to her little Louisa, who could be heard complaining loudly in the nursery. Elizabeth smiled and exchanged glances with her aunt, who protested, "Dear Jane, I cannot believe that you would ever exchange cross words with anyone, much less with your sister and me." Marriage had not changed Jane. She remained sweet-natured and patient, almost to a fault, so that all her children, whom she loved dearly, got their way with her. Mrs Bennet frequently warned her against spoiling them, but there was no need. All three of them so closely resembled their parents in disposition, there was never any fear of their being spoilt. Furthermore, they had the incalculable advantage of being the beloved children of a happy union.

Elizabeth claimed she was less fortunate than her sister, since her children were not as amenable as Jane's. With both parents being of an independent disposition, it was hardly surprising that their children were similarly endowed. In matters relating to their education, she had had no success at all in organising their lives. Sixteen-year-old Cassandra had refused absolutely to go away to school at Oxford, content to be taught by Georgiana's governess, while all efforts to persuade William, who was almost fifteen, to attend the boarding school in London chosen by the Bingleys for his cousin Jonathan had come to naught. Darcy had tried to speak firmly to young William and insist that he, at least, try a year at College before he decided against it but was disadvantaged by the fact that he had permitted Cassandra to have her own way. "If Cassy doesn't have to go away to school, Papa, why should I?" asked William, reasonably, arguing that he was doing very well with his tutor and didn't think Jonathan's school could do him any good at all. "I do not wish to be forced to drill and play stupid games. I would rather study music and literature with Mr Clarke and ride or play cricket in Derbyshire, than go away to boarding school in London." The boy was so determined that short of ordering him to go, his father, who detested domineering, bullying men himself, had no arguments to change his mind. Elizabeth was disturbed by the refusal of both her children to do what she had expected they would do, but like Darcy, she was unwilling to provoke a confrontation that would do more harm than good.

It was true that Cassandra had succeeded in persuading her father that her education was not going to be enhanced by a year at Mrs Baxter's establishment. She was already, at sixteen, an extremely intelligent and well-read young woman, with opinions of her own and a tendency to emulate her mother's witty style of comment. "Truly, Mama, I cannot believe that I would add anything to my understanding by spending a year or two with Mrs Baxter. If you wish me to spend some time at Oxford in the future, I should prefer to accept Aunt Georgiana's invitation to stay with her. She and Dr Grantley would be far better companions for me at Oxford, than Mrs Baxter would. I should learn so much more from them. Do you not agree?" Elizabeth could hardly disagree. Her attempts to persuade her daughter that there was something to be gained from a resident school fell on deaf ears, and Cassandra replied with a cunning suggestion that took even her mother by surprise. "I know what I should like above anything," she declared, and before anyone could draw breath, she continued, "I should love to learn to cook and shop and run a house just like Aunt Gardiner does. She is the best, Richard says, and so does Emily. Now, that would be something really useful for a modern young lady to learn; do you not agree, Mama?" The sweet reasonableness of her argument combined with the complete innocence of her expression as she appealed to her mother and aunt was breathtaking. Elizabeth hesitated, and Mrs Gardiner, whose love of her nieces' children was absolute, was so flattered she could scarcely believe her ears. Sensing success, Cassandra persisted, turning to Mrs Gardiner, with her wide dark eyes and an angelic smile, "Would you teach me, Aunt?"

"Of course I would, but your mother and father ...," she got no further. Cassandra hugged first Mrs Gardiner and then her mother, before declaring with a degree of finality, "That's settled then. It is near enough for me to ride over, and if it rained, you could send the carriage for me, or I could stay overnight. Oh, I can't wait to tell William. I'm glad he isn't going to boarding school, Mama, he would have been miserable, and I should have felt very guilty indeed," she declared and danced out of the room and down the long corridor in search of her brother.

Elizabeth shook her head, not knowing quite what to say. Jane remained silent lest anything she said might offend her sister. Only their aunt was prepared to speak, but so partial was she to Cassandra, that she could do no more than offer some small comfort to Elizabeth. "Dear Lizzie, you must not worry, I know my Caroline and Emily were greatly advantaged by their time with Mrs Baxter, but remember, they did not have the benefit of the background that you and Mr Darcy have given Cassy here at Pemberley. We lived in Cheapside, and your uncle and I felt the girls needed to get out into a more cultured environment for a year or two. Cassy is quite right to point out that she would do better to visit Georgiana at Oxford, than spend time with Mrs Baxter. I do not mean to criticise Mrs Baxter, she is an educated woman and a most conscientious teacher, but knowing Cassy, I can see that she would be very bored within a week." Jane agreed wholeheartedly, and Elizabeth had to accept that her daughter was probably going to get her own way, again.

"Do you really mean to teach her to cook and manage a household?" she asked, and her aunt smiled.
"I most certainly do, and I think she will enjoy it, too," she said, not knowing exactly how she was going to organise her home to accommodate young Cassy, until Emily came to the rescue.
"Since I am here at Pemberley most of the week, Cassy can have my room, whenever she stays over," said Emily, who had been rather quiet throughout the discussion.
"Are you sure you will not be inconvenienced?" asked Elizabeth, anxious that Cassandra's plans should not disrupt the Gardiners' lives. Emily assured her she was happy to let Cassandra use her room. She herself had a pretty suite of rooms at Pemberley, opposite the schoolroom, where she used to teach William and Cassandra when they were little. She enjoyed the privacy it afforded her. She worked in the library and the music room and taught the children at Kitty's infant school; it was a busy life. She always went home to Lambton on Saturdays and returned to Pemberley on Mondays. It was an arrangement that suited everyone rather well.
Meanwhile, the lives of other members of the family had moved on. Robert Gardiner lived almost permanently in London, where he looked after the legal side of his father's business. Robert had wanted to study the Law. Unsure that his son had the will to spend enough time on the business, Mr Gardiner had recently employed a very able business manager. This meant that Robert had more time to study, but reports from London did not suggest that he was doing very much study at all.
Richard, on the other hand, having completed very successfully a gruelling course of medical study in Edinburgh and later Paris, had purchased a practice in a part of Birmingham, which badly needed his services. Assisted by his friend Paul Antoine, he had furnished the modest consulting rooms and hung up his shingle. There was no shortage of patients from aging men and women suffering from ague or pleurisy to babes in arms with croup or quinsy; they all came hoping to be healed by the new doctor. The doctor from whom he purchased the practice used to work two days a week at the district's cottage hospital, and Richard had been happy to take over the work. He soon realised that there were twice as many patients to be seen at the hospital as at his rooms. Often he worked late and didn't get any dinner before returning to the lodgings they rented in town.
When Mrs Gardiner found out, she decided that it would not do at all. "If you do not eat proper meals, you will soon be as sick as your patients," she said and proceeded to make arrangements to go to Birmingham with Emily and Mr Gardiner to set things right. The first thing to do was to get them better accommodation as well as board, in a house, rather than rented rooms. A business acquaintance of Mr Gardiner's had a couple of rooms and a sitting room to let in his house. These were inspected and pronounced suitable, and arrangements were made for the provision of meals. When they returned that evening, Richard and Paul were astonished at the appearance of the place, with new curtains and a fire in the grate.
"It is," said Richard, "almost like home, except it is Birmingham!" Having extracted several promises including a pledge that they would return home every fortnight, the Gardiners left.
Emily noted that Paul was thinner and paler and hoped he was not being overworked. Her parents glanced quickly at each other, and Mrs Gardiner said she had also noticed his pallor, though she had put it down to the fact that the weather was still cold in Birmingham. "I am quite sure he will get some colour back in his cheeks in Summer," she said, and because Emily was silent, they assumed she had agreed. In fact, she did not agree but kept her counsel, intending to speak to her brother when he next came home.
Charlotte Collins, with the continuing help of the Gardiners and some advice from Elizabeth and Emily, had taken a lease on a modest house in the district of Mansfield in Nottinghamshire. Set in pleasant grounds, with access to a large park, part of the estate of Lord Mansfield, who was her landlord, the house was ideal for her purpose. Charlotte was grateful for the help of Mrs Gardiner and her husband, who provided her with introductions to several families in the area, leading to many enquiries and ultimately five young ladies, who wished to enrol at her establishment.
Whether she would make a success of it was left to be seen, but she certainly did not shirk any of the hard work that was necessary. Her own daughter Rebecca, who had literary ambitions, and young Emily Gardiner were available to help and when Elizabeth suggested a conducted tour of Pemberley and afternoon tea on the terrace for her young ladies, Charlotte was delighted. "It will be an added attraction, Lizzie; there are not too many people, outside your circle of family and friends, who will have such a wonderful opportunity to see Pemberley and have tea on the terrace," she said with great satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the two infant schools at Pemberley and Kympton had been established with the help of Mr and Mrs Darcy, Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and the respective parish councils. In each case, the lack of assistance from any level of government was criticised as a national shame by Fitzwilliam, who, as the Member of Parliament for the area, vowed to press the matter at Westminster. The editor of the
Matlock Review
wrote another strong editorial on the need for a national school system, but it fell on deaf ears again, as it had on two previous occasions. There was, as yet, no political will to take up the cause of education for the children of the poor.
When Caroline's child, a boy they named David, was born, there was a family celebration, and the entire village turned out for the christening at the little church. They were proud of their new member and his family. Fitzwilliam had by his sincerity and passion for reform convinced many who were as yet without the franchise, being neither landed gentry nor middle class merchants, that he would genuinely represent their cause. That his wife was as natural and easy with ordinary working people as she was with the rich and famous merely added to their satisfaction.
As the nation settled into a new era with a new government, their lives seemed as if they were settling into a familiar pattern, too. If there were storm clouds over the horizon, hardly anyone was aware of them yet. Mr and Mrs Gardiner were so proud of their children and grandchildren they were loathe to admit of any disappointments, lest it may seem a reflection upon one of them. Yet, the absence of their youngest son Robert from most family gatherings was causing some comment and consequently much heartache for his mother. While she had no notion of the extent of Robert's problems, Mrs Gardiner had hoped that whatever it was that troubled her son would be easily cleared up by Mr Gardiner when, on receiving a letter from his business manager, he decided to go up to London for a few days. But, on his return, the news he brought was far from good, and even the usually cheerful and optimistic Mr Gardiner appeared grimfaced.
After dinner, when they were free of the servants, he revealed that young Robert was in trouble. "He is in debt and cannot pay his creditors," he said, looking and sounding truly miserable, as he detailed the problems besetting their son. "He seems to have fallen into rather dissolute and irresponsible company. I gathered from a couple of his friends that he had lent a friend a large sum of money to pay a gambling debt." Seeing his wife's look of alarm, he added quickly, "No my dear, it is not what you think; Robert himself does not gamble, but he appears to keep the company of some singularly unattractive characters who do, and they have taken advantage of him." Despite her husband's reassuring words, Mrs Gardiner was so distressed, she could barely speak. When she did, she was confused. "What is to be done? How will he be found, and what will happen to him?" she cried. Mr Gardiner held up a hand, "Well, first we shall have to find him. I have made some enquiries, and I hope to enlist Fitzwilliam's help. He knows London well," he said. "Then, I shall need to discover how much is owed and to whom. It could be a considerable sum, or he would surely have come to us. Finally, I shall have to make good the money and release him from this dreadful obligation."
"But, Edward, if it is a very large sum, how shall we find the money?" Mrs Gardiner asked anxiously. Her husband was unwilling to go into the matter in too much detail.
"Bear with me, my love, once we know what we are dealing with, I shall explain everything. Meanwhile, I must see Fitzwilliam, after which I shall go to Pemberley and talk to Mr Darcy."
"Mr Darcy! Must he know all our troubles, too?" his wife asked, unhappy at the thought and apprehensive about Darcy's reaction.
"He must, we are partners in business, and if I am to undertake a course of action that may cause me to leave my business for a while, my partner is entitled to know the reason. Besides, my dear," he added, "I value his advice." Mrs Gardiner toyed with the idea of accompanying her husband but decided against it. It was very late when Mr Gardiner returned, accompanied by two of the stable hands from Pemberley. Darcy had insisted; times, he had said, were difficult, and it was sensible not to take risks. Mrs Gardiner went eagerly to meet him, and seeing how exhausted he looked, she almost wept. However, when he had explained their plans, she was content to trust his judgement.
The following morning, Mr Darcy rode over to Lambton. Fitzwilliam had already arrived. Without delay, they set off in Mr Gardiner's carriage. Mrs Gardiner, who had not come downstairs, but watched from an upstairs window, felt tears sting her eyes. That one of her children, even poor, shy Robert, should have caused so much trouble was sufficient to break her heart. Yet, Mr Gardiner had insisted that Robert had not done anything dishonourable. There was no hint of embezzlement or false pretences involved, simply an unwise transaction from which he could not extricate himself. The uncertainty was hardest to bear. If only there was someone with whom she could share her fears. She wondered whether she could take the pony trap and drive to Pemberley.
Even as she pondered, shortly after breakfast, of which she ate very little, her wish was granted. The sound of a carriage coming up the drive sent her to the window, and to her great joy, there was Elizabeth, alighting from one of the smaller Pemberley carriages. Mrs Gardiner flew to the front door, and as her niece entered, she was enveloped in an embrace. "Oh Lizzie, if you knew how much I've been longing to see you." Aunt and niece embraced again and sat down to tea before withdrawing to Mrs Gardiner's room to talk in private. Elizabeth knew very little except that Robert was having "money troubles" and Darcy and her uncle were going up to London to help him. When her aunt told her all she knew, Elizabeth was quite shaken. "Do we know who it is Robert borrowed the money from and for whom?" she asked. Her aunt did not know. She knew only that it was to help a friend pay his gambling debts. Elizabeth, her mind going back to the dark days of Lydia's elopement, wondered at the coincidence of events. "There is no question of Robert raiding the business, Lizzie, that at least is certain. Your uncle has told me that he has seen Mr Bartholomew and been assured that there have been no monies drawn out at all by Robert, save his monthly wage." Her aunt was still very distressed, and Elizabeth tried to calm her.
"You must not distress yourself like this, dear Aunt, I am sure Darcy and my uncle will find Robert and settle this unfortunate business. I cannot believe that Robert could knowingly enmesh himself in such a scheme. Surely he must have been deceived." Each mention of Robert or the predicament in which he now found himself seemed to turn the knife in her aunt's heart. Elizabeth decided to take her out for a drive. It was, for her, the panacea for all ills, and she persuaded Mrs Gardiner that she would feel better for it, too.
They drove many miles before realising they were both tired and thirsty. The inn at Lambton, which held so many happy memories for them, offered both shade and refreshment. Taking advantage of its hospitality, they spent a quiet afternoon, during which Elizabeth succeeded in bringing her aunt to a state of acceptance, in which she grew calmer and more confident that Robert could be found and his creditors satisfied. It was a question of knowing where to look, and with Darcy and Fitzwilliam to help, Mr Gardiner's task would surely be easier. As the afternoon grew cooler, they returned to Oakleigh, to find a carriage from Pemberley in the drive. Emily had come for Elizabeth. William had been taken ill, and Mrs Reynolds had sent for the doctor. Elizabeth was immediately eager to return to Pemberley, and Mrs Gardiner went with her, planning to stay overnight. Fortunately, William's illness turned out to be severe indigestion rather than a life threatening disease, but with a summer storm brewing in the Northwest and clouds swirling in from the Peak District, Elizabeth was glad indeed to be home.
Mr Gardiner and Darcy returned late on the following day, having left Fitzwilliam in London with Robert. While the news they brought was not all bad, it was still unlikely to bring much joy to poor Mrs Gardiner, who had spent a wretched night, watched over alternately by Emily and Elizabeth, who were themselves exhausted with worry and lack of sleep. Later, after they had eaten, Mr Gardiner, his voice heavy with unhappiness, detailed the action they had taken. Robert had been contacted by Mr Bartholomew, and on being assured that his father was not enraged at his behaviour, but rather was seeking to help him extricate himself from his unhappy predicament, he had come forward. Advised by both Mr Bartholomew and Mr Gardiner's lawyer that he had best lay all his problems on the table, he had finally made a clean breast of it.
A year or more ago, Robert had been grateful for the friendship of Viscount Lyndsey, one of three sons of a famous family around town, whose attractive sister had seemed to favour him. Through them, Robert had obtained entry into social circles that he had never moved in before and had soon found himself somewhat out of his depth. In an effort to please his friend and retain the favour of his charming sister, Robert had advanced him money to pay several small debts. At first, the monies had been repaid as Viscount Lyndsey appeared to win at Baccarat and Roulette, but a few months ago, he had demanded a sum well beyond Robert's modest means. Urged on by his friend and his sister's tearful appeals, Robert had used his father's credentials to borrow the money, which he handed over at a club, in the presence of two friends. That was the last he had seen or heard of either the Viscount or his charming sister. Under pressure to return the money and with nowhere to turn, Robert had pawned most of his possessions to pay a part of his debt and fled his rooms. Conscious of the disgrace he could bring upon his family and the consequent damage that might inflict upon his father's business, the young man, whose culpability was a consequence more of weakness than criminality, had gone into hiding.