Chapter 4
Fitzwilliam Darcy had his man of business place adverts in the papers seeking a lady to be Anna’s companion. His Aunt Elaine, the Countess of Matlock, had told him that as his sister was fifteen as of her past birthday, it was time for such a lady to be employed.
Even though Aunt Elaine had offered to seek a suitable lady, Darcy had politely refused.
Being a fastidious man, he preferred to see to it himself.
Also, he was very confident in his own judgement; hence, he was certain he would be able to select a good companion for Anna.
He decided not to bother Richard, who had recently been promoted to the rank of colonel and had received command of the Dragoons’ training grounds.
He was sure that his cousin had more than enough to occupy him without the added burden of interviewing candidates to superintend Anna.
With the notice sent to the papers, Darcy sorted through the correspondence in a neat pile in one corner of his dark mahogany desk.
He saw one from arguably his best friend, outside of Richard, Lambert.
He broke the seal and read the notification that his friend and his wife had been blessed with a son.
Before he departed for the trials awaiting him at Rosings Park, he would purchase and send a gift to Lambton for his friend’s new son.
He wondered why he subjected himself to Lady Catherine’s pronouncements, especially about the fictitious ‘cradle betrothal.’ He always speculated about how his aunt seemed to ignore inconvenient facts, like the fact that he was more than two years of age when Anne was born and long out of his cradle.
He was interested to see who Lady Catherine had appointed as her new parson.
Darcy had no doubt he would be a supreme example of a sycophantic, pusillanimous bootlicker who would hang on his imperious aunt’s every word.
Although he recognised how ridiculous his uneducated aunt was, Darcy did not see the inconsistency of the way he had adopted some of her attitudes towards those he deemed below himself, all the while being friends with the son of a parson as well as the son of a tradesman.
At least, the newly minted colonel would be with him when he travelled to Kent. Richard was good at deflecting some of their aunt’s worst excesses. He had acquiesced to Anna’s plea for her to remain with Aunt Elaine and Uncle Reggie due to the fact that she was petrified of Aunt Catherine.
Before he made his way into Kent, Darcy had a meeting scheduled with one Edward Gardiner in his offices. Uncle Reggie, Andrew, and Richard had recommended he invest some of his capital with the man, as his returns were consistently high.
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“Unless Mr Darcy brings it up, I will not mention our connection to your brother as I do not want him to think I am trading on the friendship between them,” Gardiner told his wife before he left the house for the less than ten-minute walk to the offices next to one of his warehouses.
The building used to house the offices of his late mentor, Peter Bellamy, before he had lost interest in everything, including the running of his concerns.
Gardiner had retained all of his late uncle by marriage’s employees, and since incorporating the business into his own more than eight years past, his income had more than tripled to the point that it was just over ten thousand pounds per annum.
The Gardiners could have easily afforded a house with a much more fashionable address, but they liked their house and had no need to move to an address which would impress others.
“I agree with you, Edward,” Maddie replied. “Adam would not object, but I would hate for Mr Darcy to think you need to lean on his friendship with my brother rather than stand on your own merits. I am sure he will need nothing more than to see your stellar results.”
At the time for his departure, Gardiner kissed his wife soundly before making a quick stop in the nursery and school room to farewell the children. Thereafter, he made the brisk walk to the office to await Mr Darcy.
Darcy arrived at the agreed-upon time. He was impressed that he saw no vulgarity and only gentlemanlike behaviour among the employees.
He received a further shock on meeting Mr Gardiner.
Had he not known he was not; Darcy would have thought him gently born.
Although he had pledged to himself that he would view what he was told with a sceptical eye, it did not take long before he was convinced that his uncle and cousins had the right of it.
As was almost always the case, Gardiner’s Maddie had been correct. The results that Mr Darcy saw, combined with his family members being investors, were enough for him to make a sizable investment himself.
Gardiner had found the younger man somewhat arrogant but nevertheless polite. Seeing that Mr Darcy never asked questions about Gardiner’s family, the latter saw no reason to speak about the subject. By the time Mr Darcy stood up to leave, both men were well pleased by the meeting.
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A few days after Easter, the maid cleaning the private sitting room attached to the master suite in the Gardiners’ house, noticed that a letter had fallen and was caught behind the sideboard.
She could read enough to know it was addressed to the mistress.
She slipped it into the large pocket of her apron.
The housekeeper told her the mistress was in the drawing room. She knocked on the open door and entered.
“Esther, what can I do for you?” Maddie asked gently. She could see that the young maid was nervous. “You may tell me what you need. I promise that I will not be angry.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Ma’am. I found this be’ind the sideboard in your sitting room,” Esther stated, eyes down.
“Thank you, Esther,” Maddie responded gratefully. “It has been almost a fortnight since I placed it on the sideboard, and then I forgot it was there. Hand it to me, please.”
The young maid did so, bobbed a curtsy, and was gone.
Madeline could not fathom why she had forgotten about the letter, but even if the sender was unknown, she owed her or him the courtesy of reading the epistle.
That she had no way of sending a response was neither here nor there.
When she broke the seal, to say that both her curiosity and shock had been heightened at seeing the name of the writer was an understatement. The name was Lucy Johnson, née Carlyle.
Why would Veronica’s friend write to her so many years after her cousin’s death?
Maddie told herself she would never know unless she read the missive.
There was a single page around a second letter, this one in her late cousin’s hand.
As hard as it was, she resisted the urge to read it first, starting with the letter Lucy Johnson had posted.
Maddie smoothed the page out and placed the letter in Veronica’s hand on the small table next to her.
8 April 1811
Mrs Gardiner,
I beg your pardon that it has taken me so long to be brave enough to send this letter Veronica wrote and asked me to send to you if she did not survive childbirth.
Part of the reason I did not post this to you years ago was my own guilt at my culpability in what happened. I was only a year older than Veronica, but I knew what she had been talked into was wrong, but like her, I was caught up in the perceived romance of the situation.
It did not take me long to see that there had been no romance, only a lying, manipulative man who would say anything to gain that which he desired.
Sometime after I married, I confided in and told the whole of the events to my dear Mr Johnson. He told me that as much guilt as I thought I bore, I had made a promise to my friend, which meant I was honour bound to post this to you.
All I can do is beg your pardon for any part I played in Veronica’s ruin.
My biggest error was not reporting the first contact your cousin had with the dastard.
I will understand if you are never able to forgive me, and I suppose the reason I did not provide you a direction to write back was my fear you would want to berate me and not see your way clear to pardon me.
Whatever you would want to say in condemnation of my actions, or lack thereof, cannot be worse than I tell myself each and every day.
Her letter to you was never opened, and I can only imagine that she tells you all. I will say no more, as it is her story to tell, even from beyond the grave.
With apologies and shame,
Mrs L Johnson
As much as Maddie had wanted to know what had happened to her young cousin, now that she had the probable answer in her hand, she paused, sitting and staring at the missive, before breaking the seal on the epistle with her name in Veronica’s hand.
It was slightly faded, but Maddie could still make out what was written without exertion.
She took a deep breath and broke the seal.
1 March 1802
A cottage outside of Lambton
Maddie,
If you are reading this letter, then I am no longer alive, which, as much as it is not what I want, may be preferable to the shame my parents and I would live with if I were alive with a child born out of wedlock.
I thought I was so mature, but all I am is a silly girl who had her head turned by a man who said anything he needed to in order to take her virtue. Even worse, you warned me about him in the past, but I thought myself so very clever. I refer to none other than George Wickham.