Chapter 10
From: F. Darcy
Thomastown Harbour, Killucan
Royal Canal Co., Broadstone, Dublin
New Dublin Packet Co., Liverpool
Pemberley, near Bakewell via Buxton
Dearest Georgiana—
I am safely arrived in Ireland and have come by canal boat from Dublin to Thomastown, where I have taken lodgings in the company house by the harbour.
It is a modern two-story building with pitched slate roof and rendered chimney stacks to either end—I should be very comfortable here.
In truth, Thomastown might as well be the very heart of oblivion itself, so removed is it from all the comforts of civilised company.
There is no point in describing its environs—which I have yet to discover—so I will start my description of Ireland at Dublin.
I had not thought beforehand, but Dublin is the second city after London in His Majesty’s dominion, and likely the third in Europe—and while it yields in extent to London, yet it does not in architectural beauties, of which I was largely ignorant.
It is seated at the end of a large and spacious bay, to which it gives its name, and into which the River Liffey disembogues itself.
Of necessity, I could not spend much time in the town, and hope to see more during my extended sojourn in the country, for needs be I shall spend much time at the offices of the Royal Canal Company which are located at Broadstone, a mile distant from the town’s centre.
I contrived to view the city from an elevated situation, from Lord Nelson’s monument—a view equal to any I have seen.
The expansive bay to the east below the city, the variegated beauties of the adjacent county, and the neatness of the blue slating, with which the houses are universally covered, greatly contribute to the grandeur of the prospect.
That being said, the shops are handsomely fitted up, with considerable taste, and so near is the resemblance of several streets to some in the metropolis of England, that you might imagine you were in London.
I did not take the time to seek out any drapers or milliners—if you wish, please send me a list of any Irish linen and lace that you may find a use for.
Perhaps the grandest building is the Bank of Ireland, where I was obliged to go for permission to have my chest of Pemberley Pennies allowed into the country—I shall write of that later.
The building was originally designed for and, until the Union between Great Britain and Ireland in 1800, was occupied as the Senatorial Hall of the Irish Parliament.
And it must be acknowledged that not only the British Empire, but Europe, could not boast of one so spacious and stately.
For architectural beauty, it is supposed to have no rival.
Perhaps more to your interest are hung two large pieces of tapestry, well executed by Robert Baille.
One is a representation of the memorable Battle of the Boyne, and the other, the Siege of Londonderry.
I shall mention but one further architectural masterpiece—the Castle of Dublin, the whole of it far superior in beauty, extent, and elegant apartments to the Royal Palace of St. James’s.
I can do it no justice, and once I am returned, we must take a tour of Ireland and give the country the attention it so rightly deserves.
My dearest sister, I have not enquired about yourself and whether you are well.
I felt miserable indeed in leaving you to manage Pemberley by yourself, trusting that Mrs. Reynolds and Baxter will ease any burdens that you might carry as mistress.
Has Mr. Adkins, the representative of Child I believe we should use the same, but reverse it.”
“To be sure, that would be the quickest route—is it not how your brother travelled? Once we have breakfasted, let us retire to the study; you to write your letter and I, mine,” said Elizabeth, enjoying her coffee, made exactly to her taste.
“I suggest we send our replies to Liverpool by messenger; otherwise, the post could be delayed or lost, for there is no mail coach direct from Bakewell to the port. By the bye, is Mrs. Younge unwell? For I have not seen her this morning.”
“She does not rise early,” replied Georgiana. “To confess the truth, the hours before breakfast are generally quite my own. Though she is agreeable enough, I cannot help but think we share few interests.”
“That is unfortunate, for a companion to be at odds with her charge.”
“’Tis nothing; it is only while I am at Pemberley, with William away.
In fact, I am glad she is here, for her family in Bakewell had a previous acquaintance with old Mr. Wickham, the Pemberley steward.
Through him, she knew Mr. Wickham as a young man and met him quite by chance some three weeks ago in Lambton.
Mr. Wickham is ever so kind, telling me stories of my father and Lady Anne. ”
Elizabeth paused; there was nothing more to be said until she had more intelligence on the man from the bank’s agent in Derby.
Possibly it was mere coincidence that he arrived in Lambton when Mr. Darcy was gone away.
If Mr. Adkins had come to Pemberley, then, as a guest of the house, Mr. Wickham’s presence would have breached no rule of propriety, there being a married man in the house. Quite convenient.
“Let us meet with Mrs. Reynolds and Baxter, and then write our letters,” she said, her thoughts lightening. “And afterwards, if the weather holds, perhaps a walk in the gardens? I would dearly love to see the roses in bloom.”
Georgiana smiled, folding Darcy’s letter. “Yes, I should like that very much.”
Together, they quietly walked the gravelled pathways of Pemberley’s well-laid-out gardens. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place so carefully designed, where natural beauty was so artfully joined with harmonious and elegant taste.
“Miss Darcy, these gardens are the loveliest I have ever seen. Oh, they lift my spirits—what a wonderful place, and to see it with the blossoms on the trees and the flowers just now coming into bloom.”
“The gardens were laid out by my mother. William and I try to keep them as she would have liked—it is the only living memory I have of her.” Georgiana paused, wistfully looking to Elizabeth.
“Would you very much mind, Miss Elizabeth, calling me Georgiana? I feel we have become good friends. And here, especially—Miss Darcy is far too formal in such a place as this.”
“I will, if you call me Elizabeth—but only on one condition.”
“Oh, what is that?”
“That you accept my apology for my overbearing behaviour last evening. I had no right to request your guest, Mr. Wickham, to leave. I fear I have become too much like Lady Jersey, who takes her sovereignty for granted; I have no such consequence.”
“Oh, Miss… Elizabeth. Please, indeed I was upset, but only because you had the right of it. I had forgotten that you were a stranger to Mr. Wickham, that it would have been improper to have him stay overnight. Please, it is of no import. Your being at Pemberley is all I could have wished for with William away.”
Elizabeth relaxed. Perhaps, with time, she could restore the easy relationship she had with Georgiana in London.
Yet, she was more than a guest; her obligation was to Child & Co.
, to Lady Jersey’s trust in her. Would it be possible to enjoy true friendship with Georgiana without compromising her very reason for being at Pemberley? She scarcely knew.
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