Chapter Fourteen
Rent Day
Hugh did not appear when Darcy and George met at early breakfast, and decided between them that the day would go ahead as planned—or, to be accurate, when Darcy mooted the notion of delaying the rent collection by a day, George loudly pooh-poohed any idea of postponement.
“We should carry on as though nothing has happened,” he said, slathering bread thickly with sweet strawberry jam. “Word of the fire will be all around the estate by now, and it is best to show everyone that Pemberley goes on, unaffected.”
Darcy glanced at the sideboard, with its usual profusion of breakfast food. “I had wondered if the cook fed the men last night upon the feast we had intended today for the tenants, and our hospitality to them might fall short.”
“Mrs Crocombe would fall upon her own filleting knives before allowing such a thing to come to pass. No, she will rise to the occasion, as always.” George gestured to the sideboard.
“She has provided the usual breakfast fare, after all, despite the night’s alarms. Trust the upper servants, Fitzwilliam.
They are as proud of Pemberley as you could be and as careful of its honour. ”
“I owe them a great deal. They were all stalwart, last night.” Darcy returned his attention to his own serving of new-baked bread. “Have you heard how Miss Elizabeth does?”
“The maid brought me word that she is still sleeping and had a reasonable night, though she suffered some bouts of coughing. The fact she is still abed at this hour is testament that she has overdone.” George eyed him critically. “It appears you are well.”
“I have not even needed to clear my throat this morning, though I coughed enough for three last night.”
“Remarkable. As for Lizzy, Dr Barrow will probably come tomorrow, since he will need to make arrangements for his patients in Buxton, but I hope we will be able to keep her within bounds today and ensure she rests. She would normally drive herself in the gig to Frith House to join her mother’s Michaelmas feast, but, unless you object, I will order the coach to take her and bring her back. ”
“But of course. Perhaps we can escort her.”
“She will leave to join her family before we have collected all the rents and met with the tenants, but we might certainly escort her back again. I take it you are still resolved to come to Frith House with me?”
“Yes, though I must consider how I might, with propriety, discourage Mrs Bennet’s ambitions. Lord, I sound eaten up with vanity, but you know it is not that. The day of her visit, I was left in no doubt of her hopes regarding her daughter.”
“Mrs Bennet is a mother who wants her children well settled. More than most, she understands how the security of a good marriage will benefit each girl. She is undeniably vulgar, but at heart she wants the best for her girls and is terrified that one day she will lose Frith House, as she lost Longbourn, and be cast out in the world.”
“I will not deprive her of a home. However, the younger girls are much in Georgiana’s company, and I know little of them beyond seeing them for a moment or two thrice a week. It is high time I remedied that.” Darcy frowned. “I am concerned about Miss Lydia’s behaviour, if I am honest.”
George grimaced. “Kitty and Lydia are, well, louder than Georgiana, and very lively. I am told that Lydia, in particular, is the image of her mother at the same age, and is somewhat indulged.”
“Mmmn. Do you know Mrs Bennet’s history?”
“Her father was the attorney in the town near Longbourn, and she married up into the gentry. She does not have the strongest grasp on proper behaviour, but there is no real harm in her. You may find the visit illuminating, anyway.” George laughed softly.
“Although some might be agog at you gadding about to Michaelmas dinners the day after almost dying in a fire!”
“I can do nothing about the fire, and Reid and I have already spoken about repairs. What is to be gained in repining over the incident? It is over.”
“Very stoic!”
“I am a practical man, and dwelling on what might have happened can avail me nothing. I will be pleased to visit the Bennets today. Might we call in at Sparrowhill on the way, if you think your father can sustain the visit? Though we had to curtail the last attempt due to his health, it is remiss of me not to have tried again.” Darcy paused, before adding, “Pemberley owes you and your father a great deal. I will only stay long enough to greet him and assure him of our continuing care.”
“Well, as I mentioned last time, he will not recognise you, and he will forget about your visit within the half-hour, but”—and here George smiled—“I appreciate your care. Of course we might call in before going to Frith House. He is doing quite well at the moment.”
Darcy had no opportunity to respond. A disturbance out in the hall imposed on their attention; a rush of booted feet, a loud voice, a door banging.
“Ah,” said George. “Hugh is home.”
This had Darcy chuckling, a reaction that seemed to inflame Hugh, who threw open the door to the breakfast room with such force it rebounded against the wall, and charged through the opening with more energy than a cavalry assault.
He stamped up to Darcy, thrusting his face all too close. “What is this I hear? What has happened? The house stinks of smoke! How in hell were you so careless, you set my father’s room alight?”
Darcy had been in too many tense situations to permit a jackanapes like Hugh to intimidate him. He set his shoulders and did not draw back, staring coldly into the face a few inches from his own, keeping his silence, holding Hugh’s gaze.
Hugh flushed a dark red across his cheekbones, and he was the one to retreat a foot or two. “What happened?”
“A fire in my study, as you have surmised. It was contained.”
“How did it start?”
“I do not know.” Darcy refreshed his coffee from the pot. “Where were you last night?”
“What? Oh, General Lackenby’s, over at Hucklow. Tom Lackenby—”
“The general’s grandson, you recall, Fitzwilliam.” The look George gave Hugh was expressive of his disapprobation. He had spoken before of Hugh’s warm and unguarded temper. Darcy could only agree it was time Hugh learned some self-control.
“Yes. I have a standing invitation to eat my mutton with Tom.” Hugh scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I heard about the fire at the lodge gates when I came in this morning. I could not believe it. Papa’s study, of all places!”
“Well, no one was hurt.” George turned back to his breakfast. “Not that you appear to be concerned about that.”
“I am glad of it, of course.” Hugh dropped into a chair, the picture of defeat and anguish. “There was so much… so many documents in the study. Did they—?”
“Ash,” George said, as blunt and remorseless as a blacksmith’s hammer ringing out a horseshoe.
“Our history was in that room! Some of those papers go back to the very first Pemberley. All lost?”
“Not all. Most of the maps and papers kept in the study were duplicates, with the main copies in the muniments room.” George’s smile was thin. “Luckily, everything current is safe in the estate office.”
“Small mercy,” Hugh muttered. “So much gone. The bookcases were older than the house, and that carving on the chimneypiece… damn it.” He scrubbed at his face again. “It was his sanctuary. Papa’s, I mean. He loved that room.”
Darcy and George exchanged glances. George grimaced.
Darcy felt as leaden as the toy soldiers he had loved as a child. “I liked the maps myself, and the house plans. It was fascinating to see how Pemberley has grown and changed.”
Hugh nodded, and looked up at last. The red had faded from his cheeks, and he looked tired.
“He knew so much about our history. He loved talking about it.” A sharp sigh.
“I wish I had listened better when he spoke of the Darcys of long ago and how Pemberley changed. It would have pleased him to think I shared his interest.” Another sharp sigh.
“As I say, Hugh, not all is lost.” The ringing hammer blows of George’s earlier tone were barely gentle taps now. “Your father was careful to keep the most important papers safely away from any chance of fire.”
“I gave Reid all the house drawings last night before the fire. They, too, are safe.” The lead inside Darcy grew heavier.
“I am sorry, Hugh, that our father’s room has been badly damaged.
We will repair it, as best we can.” He tried to smile, but the lead would not allow his mouth to curve very far. “I envy you.”
“What?”
“I envy you knowing for yourself what moved our father, what pleased him, what gave him joy. I never knew that. I never knew he was interested in Pemberley’s history. He shared that with you. A great gift, Hugh.”
Hugh opened his mouth, but whatever he planned to say died on his lips, and he stared instead. After a moment, the flush returned to his cheeks and he dropped his gaze.
“I spoke with Reid earlier about repairs,” Darcy went on, “but perhaps you might join our next discussion. You have stronger memories than I of the room, and I am sure Reid will welcome your aid as he draws up plans for the bookcases and the chimney piece to be remade and recarved. I would be pleased if you would help.”
Hugh scrunched up his face but he nodded, and a modicum of lead melted away.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, his tone as grave as he could make it.
George glanced at him and shook his head, but reached for the coffee pot and spoke to Hugh in a tone rough with sympathy.
“You look fagged to death, Hugh. You must have ridden hard to get home from Hucklow so early. Drink some coffee, and break your fast.” He smiled when Hugh looked up.
“We have a busy morning ahead of us. Will you join us? The tenants will start gathering within the hour, and will be pleased to see all the Darcys there to greet them. Your mother and Georgiana will be present for the noon meal, do not forget.”
“Only if they are recovered from last night’s alarms,” Darcy said. “I would not impose on them otherwise.”