Chapter 43
Darcy was happy to be missing the season, and that Georgiana — Anna — had asked, and been granted, the option to defer her entry into society, although she was in town with the Matlocks and enjoying outings to museums and galleries with Richard when he was free.
Darcy knew he was indebted to his cousin and aunt for their care of his sister when he had been unable to and was delighted Anna had the confidence to ask to remain with their aunt and was happy.
After Richard’s first letter in February, Darcy had made sure to attend the church at Farley, and get the measure of the man who may be a fortune hunter — after all, his new estate could be in a ruinous state if it had taken some time to find an heir and the man might be searching for a wealthy bride.
Still, although the first visit had been unproductive, as a curate had taken the service, Darcy had since observed Hughes before meeting the man as Anna’s brother.
Through Rawlins he made private enquiries about Tealing Park which revealed the place to be dated but in generally satisfactory condition. Anna would enjoy redecorating the house, and Darcy could ensure her fortune was well protected in the settlements.
But although he liked the man, he could still hardly believe she was almost old enough to marry. But other seventeen-year-olds were flooding the marriage mart this season …
It was just that she was his baby sister; his to protect. He sat heavily in the chair … he had not done a very good job of that over the last few years. First, Ramsgate, then his slow recovery following the attack, and now, the loss of his wife overtaking all his other commitments.
He suddenly wondered how Bennet must be feeling. Darcy had not cared for her enough to make Elizabeth happy, and now he had lost her; Bennet could do nothing but support him from afar. He was surprised the man could stay civil to his face, although he appreciated it.
He was in the habit now of writing each week to both Bennet and Gardiner, even though his letters were very similar to each other.
He could hardly write more frequently, as there was so little news to impart.
He had not seen Rawlins for the past two weeks; the man was staying in Retford, in the north of Nottinghamshire, searching each village and hamlet methodically.
If Elizabeth had travelled east, she was likely to have been there, and might still be.
Next they would try Leicestershire. It was long, weary work and Darcy was very glad he had two such reliable men to undertake it.
A knock on the door of his study heralded the butler, and Mrs Kerr supervising the maid as she carried in his coffee.
“I thank you.” He nodded at them all in general. “Mrs Kerr, please remain.”
She stood deferentially.
Darcy looked up at her. “You have performed a wonderful transformation of the dower house, Mrs Kerr. I thank you. I believe Mrs Darcy could be happy there, if she ever wishes to return to the estate but not Pemberley.”
He had decided that there was absolutely no reason to attempt to hide his motives and choices from the senior staff. They had all been here, of course, before and during his marriage … and afterwards.
But he had other things to talk about. “I also wish to speak to you about Mrs Reynolds.” He indicated the chair opposite. “How is she, and is there anything else she needs?”
He had only recently enquired about her, to his shame. As the household was running well, he had pushed the puzzle to the back of his mind.
He had been too late to be able to speak to her of the past, of Pemberley, and of her time with Elizabeth.
Mrs Reynolds didn’t often recognise him as Darcy, or as master of Pemberley, although her jumbled thoughts included memories of his parents and jumbled recollections of Anna as an infant, although on some days she was rather more lucid.
He called in on her several times a week, in company with Mrs Kerr, and in conference with her and Mr Reed, had approved their care and adaptations of the household.
The gentle housemaid, Jenny, was the perfect carer for the old housekeeper, and Darcy had suggested that Mrs Reynolds should live out her days here in the rooms she had lived in for a quarter of a century.
Placing her in a silent cottage with only Jenny to care for her would doubtless speed the old lady’s decline, and he would not have that.
Mrs Kerr curtsied. “Mrs Reynolds is well, sir. And Jenny has appreciated that you asked the kitchens to send up much softer food. She is eating well, and the better for it.”
Darcy glanced at the window. The warmer spring weather was mild.
“I wonder if you can ask the apothecary when he next calls, whether Mrs Reynolds would benefit from being taken out into the sunshine on warm days. We have a bathchair in the attics, I believe, and she can be carried in it by footmen on the stairs. She used to appreciate the gardens in her free time.”
“Yes, Mr Darcy, I am sure that will be of benefit to her.”
Darcy nodded at her, dismissing her. He needed to be alone.
Today was the fifteenth day of May. It was Elizabeth’s birthday, she would be twenty-two years old.
It was one year to the day when he had seen her last, when he had walked with her along the terrace in silence before dinner, failing to think of a single thing he could say to open a conversation.
They had been nearly silent over dinner, too, and then he had said goodnight and returned to his study.
He had lived those final memories a thousand times in his mind since that day. It must have been something he had omitted to do which had precipitated her decision, had caused her to leave here and cast herself into a dangerous world with nothing.
Head in his hands, he wondered where she was, how she was living and what privations and danger might be her constant companions. He groaned in anguish. It was agonising to think of her suffering and be unable to help her in any way.
It was all his fault. And it was his task to right the wrongs he had done her.