Mr. Darcy's Daughter (21 page)

And
when I replied, "From Derbyshire," they would roll their eyes and
some would say, "And where, my dear young lady, is that?" as if they had
never heard of it. Others pretended to believe it was in Scotland!

After
a while, I grew tired of this stupidity and would answer,

"From
Cambridge," which made them sit up and take a bit more notice, at least.
But oh, Mama, they were all so dull, I was very glad of Mr Carr's company,
though being American, he did not know many of the new dances at all. Darcy and
I have promised to teach him in time for the Pemberley Ball.

He
was full of news about the work he has been doing at the farm. It seems he
expects to have it all finished in time for the Midsummer Festival.

There
is none of that here. Oh I do long to be home again.

Cassy
was glad to know that Lizzie, in spite of her complaint of boredom, seemed to
be enjoying herself.

There
was, however, no more news of Julian or Josie, except for one line at the end,
which must have been added as an afterthought.

Mama, I almost forgot, it seems Mr. Andrew Jones has
promised Mr. Barrett that he would "consider very favourably" a
proposal to publish
Aunt
Josie's anthology of poems. Aunt Josie is very excited; she and Mr. Barrett
have been celebrating all day.

...and
with that cryptic line, followed by her usual affectionate salutation, the
letter ended, to her mother's utter consternation.

"Josie
and Mr. Barrett were celebrating? Celebrating what?"

Cassy,
left in terrible suspense, wondered about the implications of Lizzie's words
for her brother and his wife.

What
was Julian doing? she asked herself. She was in two minds about writing to her
daughter at once, demanding more information, but was afraid the letter may
fall into Josie's hands and she, believing she was being spied upon, could
possibly turn against Lizzie.

Cassy
was wild to know what was going on. If only her sister-in-law Caroline were here,
she thought, she could confide in her; but Caroline and her son David were gone
to Manchester on business. Cassy was feeling very frustrated indeed.

She
had just sat down to write to her daughter anyway, to ask for more information,
when the doorbell rang. An express had been delivered; it was from Julian. Her
brother wrote briefly, informing her that he was on his way to Matlock and was
bringing Lizzie and little Anthony with him.

Cassandra
had no idea what this meant, nor did she understand why Lizzie was returning
with no warning. Could she have been taken ill? Cassy wondered, more worried
now than ever.

Having
spent the afternoon in an agony of uncertainty, in which a dozen different
possibilities, each worse than the other, occurred to her, she heard her
husband's carriage arrive and ran downstairs. He greeted her and, as they went
upstairs together, he could sense that she was impatient to tell him something.

When
they were in their apartments, she handed him both letters--

Lizzie's
written several days ago and Julian's much more recent express.

Richard
read each one slowly and, as he finished reading Julian's hastily scribbled
note, his expression, which had been rather serious when he arrived, became
very grave indeed. He did not speak for several minutes as she waited anxiously
for his response.

When
he spoke, his voice was quiet and very calm, as though he had deliberately
composed himself to break the news to her as gently as possible. "I think,
my love, you must prepare yourself for a shock. I, too, have received an
express from Julian, delivered to the hospital this afternoon. It would appear
both letters were despatched together.

"He
does not say very much more than he does in yours, but it is quite clear to me
that Josie is no longer with him. He says he is bringing Anthony to us, because
there is no longer anyone to care for the boy, and as for Lizzie, he states
that it would not be seemly for her to stay on at his house alone. Now, I can
only deduce from those words that his wife has left the house. If that is the
case, I entirely agree that Lizzie cannot remain there alone."

Cassandra
could not believe what she was hearing, yet she could not contest a word of it.
Logic and reason, good sense even, no longer seemed to apply to what was
rapidly becoming a nightmare. Nothing had prepared her for this possibility.

Despite
the kindness of her husband, as he tried to alleviate her distress, the shock
was just too much for her. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she hid her face
in her pillow, as she tried to absorb the implications of what she had just
heard. It was an appalling prospect, one she had not expected to confront in
her life ever. That such a thing should befall a member of her family, indeed
her own dear brother, was unthinkable. There was little Richard could do or say
to comfort her. She was apprehensive and confused. A bewildering afternoon was
followed by an evening of anxiety, during which no question could be answered,
and a sleepless night.

*

Julian
Darcy arrived in the late afternoon of the following day, having travelled from
Cambridge in a hired vehicle, stopping only for refreshment and to change
horses on the way. When he alighted and carried his sleeping son into the
house, Cassy could see her brother was suffering both shock and exhaustion.

His
eyes were red with lack of sleep and she was stunned by the desolation of his
entire demeanour; he appeared to move as if in a trance, said nothing, and made
no attempt to explain anything.

Only
young Lizzie seemed to have her wits about her. She took the sleeping child
from his arms and carried him upstairs to her room, where she laid him in her
bed, removed his jacket and boots, loosened his inner clothing, and let him
sleep. But even Lizzie had nothing to say that could in some way enhance her
mother's comprehension of the situation they faced.

Dr
Gardiner had returned early from the hospital to await his brother-in-law's
arrival. When he saw Julian, he went to him at once and took his hand.

Julian
nodded, embraced his sister, and walking directly into the sitting room, he
almost collapsed into an armchair by the fire. Richard hastened to get him a
drink and Cassy sent for refreshments, but Julian did not say a word. When at
last he did speak, his words came quietly and very quickly, as though he was
ashamed of what he was saying and wished to get it over with.

"Cassy,
Richard, what can I say? I am sorry, deeply sorry to cause you all this
trouble. I would have given anything to spare you and my parents this pain. But
there was nothing I could do." He paused and said simply, "Josie is
gone away to London with Mr. Barrett."

There
was an audible gasp; Cassy was incredulous.

"What?"

"Yes,
and she left this note." He took from his pocket a scrap of blue notepaper,
adding, "He has promised to publish her poetry and perhaps also a
collection of articles and essays, she says. She claims she is going, not
because she loves him, but because she needs her freedom. She says she can no
longer write and work as she wants to under my roof." His voice was flat
and cold, like that of someone reporting the death of a stranger, a person for
whom they felt nothing at all.

In
the awful silence that followed, Cassy could neither speak nor weep.

She
sat before him, feeling cold and ill, as she heard her husband ask, "And
have you made any attempt to find her or speak with her?" as he poured out
another drink, which Julian swallowed hurriedly, before replying, "No, I
have not, Richard; there is nothing I can say, nothing I have not said before,
which will make her change her mind.

"Josie
told me a long time ago that she no longer loved me; she felt I was putting my
own work before her and that I had not taken her work seriously. It was not
enough to say that I loved her and Anthony dearly, which I did, better than my
life; she wanted something more, which, clearly she had decided I could not
give her."

"What
was it, did she say?" Richard asked.

"Not
in so many words," Julian replied, "but it was clear she was unhappy
and discontented. Perhaps she wanted more praise for her work or more
accommodation of her literary friends. I never objected to them coming to the
house, but if I had work to do, I would, after some time, withdraw to my study.
Josie was offended. She thought I did not value them, because their work was
not scientific, like mine was.

"This
was not true. I never was rude or arrogant with them; I am not an arrogant
person. It is simply the case that I had little in common with them, people
like Barrett and Jones and the Wallace-Groom women; I had little to say to them
and they certainly found even less to say to me,"

he
explained sadly. "But I must confess, I did not think she would leave.

I
always hoped she would stay, for Anthony's sake, at least. Clearly, I was
mistaken. I suppose Barrett's promise to publish her book must have tipped the
scales against us."

He
sounded so resigned, so totally abandoned, that Cassy cried out, "But my
dear Julian, did you not try to stop her, plead with her?"

He
shook his head. "I had no chance, Cassy; she was gone when I returned home
from the college, taking Susan, her maid, with her and most of her clothes and
jewellery. Earlier in the week, she had dismissed the nurse, Mrs. Hunt, while
Lizzie and Anthony were out walking in the park. Josie claimed Mrs. Hunt had
been gossiping with the servants; except for the cook and Mr. Bates, there were
just Lizzie, Anthony, myself, and the maid left."

Seeing
his sister's shocked expression, he added, "I did not know what to do,
Cassy; it was your Lizzie who suggested that we bring Anthony here. She said
she could care for him until we found a suitable nurse. I did not know what
else I could have done."

Richard
and Cassy spoke, almost as one, to assure him he had done the right thing.
Lizzie's suggestion had been a sensible and practical one, they said; Anthony
would be safe and cared for by all of them and he would have James for company,
too. Their youngest son was almost the same age as Anthony. The relief on
Julian's face was plain to see. Cassy had tears in her eyes but struggled to
hold them back, lest they should exacerbate her brother's grief.

Shortly
afterwards, Lizzie came downstairs to say that Anthony was still fast asleep;
she had asked the chambermaid to prepare the spare room for Julian and have an
extra bed made up in her own room for the child.

"Once
he settles down here, he can share James's room, can he not, Mama?"

she
asked, and Cassy agreed, amazed at the calmness with which Lizzie had made all
the arrangements.

Richard
had noticed that Julian was quite exhausted and decided it was best to show him
to his room, while Lizzie put her arms around her mother and suggested that
she, too, should rest a while before dinner.

"Mama,
you need have no concerns at all about Anthony," she said as they went
upstairs. "I am well able to care for him and he is not at all a difficult
child.

Indeed
I have had the care of him for most of this month, since Aunt Josie has had
little time for him and Susan has been kept busy with her mistress's errands.

Anthony,
who is a very bright little fellow, became my companion and friend."

Cassy
looked at her daughter, searching her face, seeing her in a whole new light.

"Tell
me, Lizzie, how long have you known this was going to happen?"

she
asked.

Lizzie's
voice was matter of fact, deliberately undramatic. "I have suspected it
for quite some time, Mama, but I have only known for certain this week. Do you
recall the party of which I wrote, the one we attended with Hetty and Dora
Wallace-Groom and there met Mr. Barrett and Mr. Jones?"

Cassy
nodded, recalling the letter clearly.

"Well,
I suspected then that something was afoot, but I was unsure whether it was Mr.
Barrett or Mr. Jones. I think Aunt Josie believes that Mr. Barrett is in love
with her."

"And
is he?" asked her mother.

"I
think not, Mama. I have seen him flirting with Hetty Wallace-Groom when Aunt
Josie is not present; but I think she believes that he loves her and will help
get her book published by his friend Mr. Jones, who is a partner in a
publishing firm in London. I am convinced that is the only reason why she has
encouraged him and finally gone to him. I cannot believe she loves him; I have
certainly seen no sign of it, yet she lets him think she does."

Cassy's
face was grave. "Lizzie, my dear, if you knew what was going on, why did
you not write me something of what was happening?" she asked, but Lizzie
shook her head and, suddenly, her eyes filled with tears.

"What
good would it have done, Mama? Neither you nor Papa could have stopped her. She
had Susan pack her trunk with her best clothes and jewellery almost a week
before she left. I saw the trunk in Susan's room and questioned her, but she
made some excuse about Josie wanting to be rid of some old, unfashionable
garments.