Chapter 8
“William, you have returned! It’s so wonderful to have you back at Pemberley.” Georgiana flew down the stairs into Darcy’s arms. Taking her hand, he climbed the steps where Winthrop and Mrs. Reynolds were waiting to greet him.
“Welcome back, sir,” said Winthrop, a smile gracing his lips. “I trust your journey was not too arduous.”
“As with all trips to and from London,” replied Darcy, “often monotonous, but with spring approaching, the fields are greening and, for once, the roads were dry.”
Darcy entered the house, where the senior staff had assembled to greet him.
It was so good to be back home, yet soon he would be leaving again.
This would be hard on Georgiana, who had seen so little of him since they had left London—first, his search for the stock certificates; then, the rushed return to London to seek a loan for the call on the Royal Canal shares.
“Mrs. Reynolds, I see the house has been put back into some order. At least the dining room appears ready to serve its proper purpose. My apologies that I left Pemberley in such disarray, and that I was forced to intrude in your domain, particularly the housekeeper’s closet.”
Mrs. Reynolds gave a rare laugh. “It is of no consequence, Mr. Darcy. The closets and storage rooms needed a good cleaning—as you say, sir, it is spring, and such is the time for good housekeeping. The dining room is restored, and the ballroom is as it should be: sparkling chandeliers, polished floors, fresh drapes, and clean windows. I fear we had neglected it, but all is now made good.”
“Mrs. Younge, a pleasure to see you again,” said Darcy, as he and Georgiana entered the parlour and her companion rose to greet him. “My apologies, but I wish to have a private conversation with Georgiana. Could you please leave us for a time?”
The lady bobbed a curtsey, took up her embroidery, and exited the room. While she was everything polite, Darcy noticed a certain testiness in her demeanour, but quickly dismissed it—likely she had just settled to her work and found the interruption unwelcome.
He and Georgiana sat by the large bay window, which overlooked the lawns and shrubbery. It was a pleasant room, the décor calming; the tall windows linking the interior to the gardens and nature beyond.
“Georgiana, I haven’t had a chance to explain my turning the house upside down, nor my rushed trip to London. What I say mustn’t leave this room, though Baxter is aware of the situation.”
She squeezed his hand. “Oh, William, I knew something was wrong—that you were terribly troubled. Has it been resolved?”
“In part, but let me explain.” Darcy, as gently as he could, told her about their father’s investment in the Royal Canal—a canal from Dublin to the River Shannon.
The investment itself was sound, and the estate could easily afford it.
If things had stayed as they were, there would have been no issue.
But over the past twenty years, the value of the shares had grown from ￡3,000 to ￡248,000. ”
“What a fortune!” exclaimed Georgiana. “Surely dear Papa made a brilliant investment.”
“So it seems,” Darcy agreed. “But the shares weren’t fully paid—the company only received ten percent of their value from Father.
There’s still ￡184,500 owing. This isn’t unusual, and if the canal had been successful, it would have been a shrewd move.
He would have received dividends based on the full value, having paid only a fraction. ”
He paused while Mrs. Reynolds brought in a tray with tea, small beer, and pastries, then quietly exited the room.
“Unfortunately, the company is in serious financial trouble,” he said, taking a sip of ale. “They’ve demanded the outstanding payment, ￡184,500, as is their right.”
Tears welled in Georgiana’s eyes. “William, how will we ever find such a sum? Please, take my ￡30,000 dowry—I couldn’t bear it if we lost Pemberley.”
Her generosity struck him. She was willing to sacrifice her dowry, her chances in society, simply to keep Pemberley safe for future generations—when she herself would eventually marry into another family.
“You’re far too kind, Georgiana. But I’ve secured a loan for the amount. It will be repaid once the canal reaches Mullingar in County Westmeath. There are, however, some conditions I had to accept.”
She frowned in concern. “What are they? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Nothing too harsh. First, I must travel to Ireland myself—it is in my interest and the bank’s, as the company’s directors have been careless and profligate with investors’ money. As majority shareholder, I have the authority to oversee the company’s affairs directly.
“The second condition affects you. I’ll have to be away from Pemberley for at least three months, possibly longer, to supervise the canal’s construction to Mullingar.
The estate is pledged against the loan, and the bank insists on sending a representative to oversee Pemberley’s accounts during my absence.
It’s a precaution—they’re conservative, and I can’t fault them.
The loan is considerable, and they want to protect their investment. ”
“I suppose I’ll have to stay at Pemberley,” Georgiana said resignedly.
“The Matlocks are in Scotland, and I can’t stay at Darcy House in Town, not being out in society.
But, William, surely it would be improper for an accountant to stay here with me, a young woman, even with Mrs. Younge as my companion? ”
“I’ve already discussed this with Lady Jersey.
She assures me that the bank’s representative will not be a single gentleman—certainly an accountant or clerk with his wife would be appropriate.
There’s no reason for concern regarding propriety.
” Darcy squeezed his sister’s hands. “Sweetling, I know this is a lot to ask. While I’m away, you’ll need to act as Mistress.
Mrs. Reynolds, Winthrop, and Baxter will support you.
If you’re ready, I’ll call them in now to explain the situation.
Mrs. Younge, though your companion, should not be told the details—they must remain confidential from all but the senior staff.
“Lady Jersey, from Child never before had he left her for so long, nor entrusted her with both the care of Pemberley and the unknown presence of an accountant from Child & Co.
Mrs. Reynolds, ever steady, had assured him she would watch over Miss Darcy as she always had since Lady Anne’s passing. For fifteen years, she had been more than a housekeeper—practically a second mother to Georgiana.
The crossing to Dublin, Captain Skinner insisted, was a quick one.
Darcy, after thirty-seven hours of being flung about by the Irish Sea, disagreed.
Mrs. Reynolds had provided ample bread, cheese, and cold meats for him and his man, Croft, which they consumed huddled together below decks.
By the time they finally entered Dublin Bay, Darcy was in a sour mood, unmoved by the scenery his fellow passengers claimed was comparable to the Bay of Naples.
All he wished was to be done with the two sandbanks—the North and South Bulls—that kept larger ships from harbour, and to tie up at the Pidgeon House quay.
His mood soured further when customs officers rifled through his luggage and charged him a three-shilling fee for the privilege.
They boarded a lumbering long coach, crammed with sixteen passengers inside and as many clinging outside, and set off for the city, a scant three miles distant, pulled by four miserable horses.
If Dublin Bay was picturesque, the town of Ringsend, through which they passed, was its opposite: squalid, noisy, and foul beyond description.
Every house teemed with half-clad tenants, and heaps of refuse blocked the narrow lanes.
Croft, squashed opposite Darcy and saddled with a parcel belonging to a young woman, muttered, “A veritable hell.” The bundle soon revealed itself, to Croft’s dismay and his pantaloons’ ruin, as a large piece of prize pork, sweating profusely.
At last, they reached the city, crossed a tangle of bridges, and were deposited at the mail-coach office. From there, they proceeded to Leech’s Hotel on Kildare Street, where Darcy was astonished to find himself comfortably lodged.
“I think I shall take a turn about town, Mr. Darcy,” said Croft once they had freshened up. “Will you be dining here?”
“I shall, Croft,” Darcy replied, “though I doubt the pleasures of Dublin might improve my mood. Go and see the sights while there’s still light—though the moon is bright enough tonight.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll return before you retire.” With that, Croft left Darcy in the hall and slipped into the street.