Mr. Darcy's Daughter (45 page)

She
was, therefore, very glad of the gifts of produce that Mr. Bowles and his wife
Harriet brought her and would thank them as if they, rather than the Master and
Mistress of Longbourn or Netherfield, were the source of the generous
donations.

One
advantage of this peculiar arrangement was now to become evident.

Mr.
Bowles, complete with a basket containing poultry, fruit, and honey, was able
to visit Mrs. Wickham, confident of a cheerful welcome and an invitation to
take tea in the parlour, while unbeknownst to his mother, Mr. Carr and Darcy
Gardiner were bending their efforts to persuade Frank Wickham to return with
them to Derbyshire.

Writing
to his mother a letter, which he despatched from Netherfield by express, Darcy
gave his own version of the events of the day...

Dearest
Mama,

I
am writing in haste, so you must not mind my uncouth scrawl. I am concerned
only to set your mind at rest at the earliest opportunity. This will go by
express and should be in your hands well before we arrive home.

Before
I proceed any further, let me say it, Frank Wickham is indeed the youngest son
of Aunt Lydia Wickham and he has consented, albeit with some trepidation, to
return to Derbyshire and tell his story to the coroner who, in all probability,
will enquire into the death of Mr. Jones.

Darcy
was keen to give credit where it was due.

Our
success is due, almost in its entirety, to the sound advice of my Uncle Jonathan
Bingley and the absolutely splendid scheme devised by his man, Mr. Bowles, who
is the new manager of Longbourn.

Let
me give you a brief sketch of events now, a more detailed account will follow
upon our return. Frank Wickham seems a genuinely decent fellow. He lives alone
in a cottage on the far boundary of the Longbourn Estate. For most of the
Summer and Autumn, he travels around the
country, sketching and
painting, and having worked to complete the pictures, he takes them to London
each Spring and sells them to dealers.

They
are certainly not great art, but are pretty enough to appeal to some. He claims
he makes sufficient for his needs, which are few, and he seems content.

He
also teaches drawing and painting to private pupils, in thei rhomes, when he
can get the work. He would like to get more such work, I think, but appears to
be disadvantaged by the reputation of his family, which precedes him
everywhere. I do believe he would give almost anything to put as much distance
as possible between himself and his older brothers George and Philip, whose
disreputable behaviour seems to have adversely affected Frank's own prospects
of obtaining any worthwhile position. Mr. Bingley points out that this is not
surprising; their appalling reputations have them barred from any respectable
house in the district.

Frank
Wickham, on the other hand, does strike one as having some principles, for when
Mr. Carr explained the plight of Josh Higgins, who was already in custody for a
crime he could not have committed, Wickham agreed, albeit after some hesitation
at the mention of police, to accompany us to Derbyshire. Should his story be
believed, and there seems to be no reason why it should not, Josh should be
completely exonerated and released.

Frank
Wickham confirms everything that he is supposed to have told the innkeeper at
Matlock as a true account of what took place. It was he gave Josh Higgins the
money, which the police thought he had stolen from Jones.

Mr.
Carr, who played a most effective hand in persuading Wickham that he may well
be responsible for the transportation if not the hanging of Josh Higgins, if he
remained silent, believes that the police will have no option but to release
Josh, which I am sure Papa and you will agree is an exceedingly good result.

Dear
Mama, there is, however, one problem that may cause all of this to unravel.

Frank
Wickham owes money, not a large sum, an amount of twelve pounds, to a man in
Matlock, from whose shop he purchased materials and supplies during the Summer.
He is the general merchant, Mr. Brewer.

When
Wickham left in haste, he forgot to pay his outstanding bill. Now, he fears
that Brewer may have gone to the police; if he has done so, it may well
compromise
Wickham and devalue his evidence. He does claim that he always intended to send
the money and wishes to apologise for not having done so before leaving the
area.

Mr.
Carr has undertaken to pay the bill for him, but since we are at least three or
four days from reaching Matlock, he asks if you would send the money to Mr.
Brewer together with the note from Wickham, which I here enclose. Mr. Carr
wishes me to say he will reimburse you for the amount, in full.

If
this matter can be cleared up before Frank sees the police and the coroner,
there will be no reason for concern about his probity or the reliability of his
story.

I
know how eager you must be to have this matter settled and hope our efforts
will help bring it to a satisfactory conclusion.

Both
Mr. Carr and I look forward to being back at home, for though my aunt and uncle
have been most hospitable and kind, this vexing affair has hung over us and
inhibited our enjoyment of an otherwise pleasant visit.

I
have to say, Mama, that in spite of all the facts we have gathered, including
Wickham's statement, we are no closer to discovering who killed Andrew Jones or
with what motive. It has engaged our minds for many hours of each day, but to
this moment, it remains a puzzle, the key to which has completely eluded us. Mr.
Carr sends his warmest regards to you all. My uncle and aunt send their love
and have hopes of seeing you later in the year, when they will be visiting
Pemberley.

Ever
your loving son,

Darcy
Gardiner.

*

In
Derbyshire, where the early winds of Autumn had already begun to rustle through
the woods, turning some leaves to gold and scattering others along the
footpaths, roads, and gullies, Cassandra Gardiner and her daughter read the
letter with interest. Each hoped to find in it some personal satisfaction. Both
were keen to have the unhappy business of Margaret Baines and Mr. Jones settled
as discreetly and as expeditiously as possible. It was proving to be more than
a distraction at a very busy period in their lives and, in Lizzie's case, had
taken her beloved Mr. Carr away, just when she wanted most to have him beside
her.

However,
while Cassy seemed reasonably satisfied with the contents of her son's letter,
Lizzie clearly was not. She had read and re-read her brother's letter, looking
for some small message, a sentence, a phrase even, from Mr. Carr and found
none, save for the general salutation. He had sent his "warmest regards to
them all," including her with the rest; it could not have been duller, she
thought.

To
say she was disappointed would be an understatement.

Since
they had become engaged, Lizzie had not been parted from her Mr. Carr for any
appreciable length of time and this separation was beginning to take its toll
upon her usually blithe spirit.

Lizzie
had gathered from her brother's letter that it would probably be four days
before they could expect them back and then, she wondered, how much longer
would he be involved in the matter of Josh Higgins and Mr. Wickham?

She
was aware that he took his responsibilities to the community seriously and
surmised gloomily that it may well be several weeks before the coroner heard
all the evidence, questioned the witnesses, and settled the matter. Yet, he had
neither written to her nor sent her a message in her brother's letter. Young,
vulnerable, and in love, she was hurt by his silence.

Lizzie
was not to know that similar thoughts were absorbing the mind of the man whose
absence was causing her grief. He, too, had scarcely been a few days away,
before he began to crave the sight of her and long for her company.

Yet,
while he could sigh away his deprivation and complain to his friend, Lizzie was
too shy to speak of her feelings to anyone.

Laura
was too young to understand and her mother was, she judged, too busy with a
dozen different tasks or too anxious about the dreadful business of Margaret
Baines to be troubled by such trifling matters.

She,
therefore, suffered alone, hoping the pain of her loneliness would end sooner,
yet resigned to the fact that this was probably a forlorn hope.

For
Lizzie Gardiner, who had led a relatively sheltered life, undisturbed by
scandalous or shocking events, the year just gone had been a turbulent and
disturbing one. At eighteen, when the highlights of her social life had been a
cricket match, the harvest festival, a chamber concert, or the annual Pemberley
Ball, she had viewed life with an innocent naivete.

One
year later, she had witnessed the gradual destruction of her cousin's marriage,
the betrayal of trust and subsequent death of a young woman she had always
regarded with affection.There followed the renunciation of his inheritance by
her Uncle Julian Darcy, with all its attendant consequences for his family and
her own.

Now,
as if that were not sufficient, they were involved, through no fault of theirs,
in the extraordinary escapade of Margaret Baines and Mr. Jones, with another
death and a possible murder enquiry to boot!

In
this same period, Lizzie's own life had been changed by the arrival in the area
of her brother's friend, Mr. Michael Carr. The awakening of love in her
youthful heart, the discovery that he loved her enough to want to marry her,
and the admission that her life would be far less felicitous without him had
changed her life profoundly.

In
her diary, to which she confided her innermost thoughts, she wrote,
It all
came upon me so gently, with none of the surprise and excitement one reads of
in books, where young ladies and gentlemen declare that they have fallen in
love instantly at the very first meeting, while bells peal in the background
and flowers bloom at their feet! I knew none of this.

Yet,
now, so deeply am I in love, so ardently drawn to him, that if he were by some
dreadful mischance (which God forbid) to be taken from me,I do not believe I
would care to wake up upon the morrow.

And
on another page,

Ever
since he has gone with my brother to Hertfordshire, I have missed him so
terribly that I dare not speak of it, lest it is deemed unseemly to have such strong
feelings, but I do so long for his return.

Yet,
despite this feeling of desolation, on the following morning, when her mother,
after breakfast had been cleared away, asked if Lizzie would accompany her on a
visit to her grandmother, Mrs. Gardiner, she agreed without hesitation.

"Do
put on your pretty new blue gown and bonnet, my love," said her mother.
"Your Grandmama always enjoys seeing you dressed up, and since she does
not get about much, this would be an opportunity for her to see you in it.

It
will cheer her up."

Lizzie
could not help thinking it was such a pity that Mr. Carr was away, because she
had hoped to wear her new gown for his benefit.

Nevertheless,
she went upstairs, dressed, put up her hair, wore her new bonnet, and came
downstairs in less than half an hour. Cassandra was pleased.

"There,
you
do
look lovely, Lizzie.
I am glad we got the blue muslin instead of the cream; it suits you well and
that bonnet is very pretty indeed!" she said as they went out together.

They
took the small carriage. It was not far to Oakleigh Manor, which lay in a
pleasant valley, not far from the village of Lambton.

The
day was warm and windless, with high white clouds sailing lazily across a sky
so blue it hurt the eyes to look on it for long. Mother and daughter were both
glad of the cover the carriage provided. Cassy had noticed that Lizzie had been
rather quiet and had put it down to the strain of the unhappy business with
Margaret Baines and Mr. Jones. She was pleased they were driving out to
Oakleigh today; it would provide a welcome distraction, she thought.

They
were approaching the inn at Lambton, where the coaches from Derby and
Birmingham stopped to drop off and pick up passengers. Despite the growing
popularity of rail travel, many travellers still preferred the coach. As the
inn came into view, they saw a figure on the road ahead. It was a tall man, and
he was walking towards them at a fairly brisk pace, his overcoat flung over his
shoulder. Clearly, he did not need it on such a warm day.

"Stop!"
cried Lizzie to their driver, "Stop! Look, Mama, it's Mr. Carr!" and
even before the vehicle had been brought to a standstill, she was preparing to
evacuate her seat, heedless of her mother's cries of caution.

As
they drew near, the man, alerted by the sound of the carriage pulling up beside
him, looked up at its occupants. Sure enough, it was Mr. Carr and, as the door
was opened, Lizzie leapt out of the vehicle and into his astonished arms.
Cassandra could do no more than watch, as the pair embraced, their elation at
this unexpected meeting clearly overwhelming any inhibitions they may have had.