Page 70 of A Life Diverted
The Bennet and Phillips families arrived at the Big Bull Inn in Lambton on the second day of June. All of the rooms in the inn had been reserved for their four-day stay; they intended to depart for Holder Heights on the following Saturday morning.
The families were in awe of the splendours which nature in the area; they had a good view of some of the peaks from Lambton.
On Wednesday morning, Bennet asked the landlord what sights were nearby, and he was told the estate of Pemberley, one of the largest in Derbyshire, was often visited when people travelled through the area.
As far as the landlord knew, the family was away from home and the house was open to visitors.
Fanny Bennet remembered that one of Cilla’s friends, who did not abandon her, lived at an estate in Derbyshire. She had not thought about the name for some time—Lady Anne Darcy. Pemberley sounded correct, but she was not sure.
The Phillipses had no children to entertain, so they chose to spend the morning with Gardiner and his betrothed at the parsonage.
Kitty and Lydia were left at the inn with their nurse and Miss Jones, and the largest travelling coach containing the other five Bennets commenced the five-mile journey to the estate.
The gates were open, and the gatehouse keeper doffed his cap to them without stopping the conveyance.
Bennet surmised the man was intimidated by the two huge footmen on the back of the coach.
For added security, Bennet had hired extra footmen/guards, led by the two with them this day, former sergeants in the army, Biggs and Johns.
The Bennets travelled through a few miles of thick forest on either side of a gravel drive. As the forest receded, the drive turned to the left and there was an incline. At the crest, Bennet struck the roof, and the family exited the coach to wonder at the sight before them.
Below them was a valley with the Derwent River meandering through it, and what seemed like a man-made channel that diverted some of the water to a lake in front of the largest house either Bennet parent had ever beheld.
The house was built on rising ground on the opposite side of the valley glowed with a golden hue in the early morning sunshine reflected from the Derbyshire stone used in this part of the country.
Up the side of the hill they could see, over the roof of what appeared to be at least a five-story structure, a forest. In front were formal gardens, but it was easy to see they were not overly manicured. In the centre of the gardens was a large rose garden laid out around a gazebo.
There was a large expanse of grass which led to the lake, then the forest was allowed to be free from the awkward attempts of man to tame it.
“Never have I seen a place for which nature did more and where the awkward tastes of man have not been employed to counteract it,” Fanny marvelled.
She was, after all, a gardening enthusiast.
“Why would anyone need such a huge home?” Elizabeth asked innocently.
“Princess, it is not the size that makes it a home, but the people who live in it. I will wager the housekeeper will tell us that the structure was erected some generations ago. Do not forget, to some the houses at Longbourn and Netherfield Park would look palatial; it is just a question of perspective,” Fanny explained.
They were met at the door by a kindly looking lady with greying hair protruding from her cap and wearing a housekeeper’s chatelain; she introduced herself as Mrs. Reynolds. As the master and mistress were away from the house and it was open to visitors, she conducted the tour.
During the tour, she pointed out portraits of the master and mistress, Mr. Robert and Lady Anne Darcy. It was then Fanny realised she was correct about this being Cilla’s friend’s house.
The tour of the house ended with the music room. All three Bennet girls, including Mary who was just three, marvelled at the grand pianoforte in the room, for it was a Broadwood grand.
“The young misses seem enamoured with the music room; do they play?” Mrs. Reynolds asked, thinking to indulge the young girls who likely had but rudimentary skills.
“Mary has just started to learn,” Mrs. Bennet stated, pointing to her youngest present, “but Jane and Lizzy have been working with a master for some time now.”
“Would one of the young misses like to indulge us with a tune?” Mrs. Reynolds asked, believing at best they would be able to play scales, but it would be a pleasant change to her afternoon to hear them from one so young.
“May I really play?” Elizabeth asked gleefully. “I have not been able to do so since we left home.” Based on the petite, but strikingly beautiful girl’s size, Mrs. Reynolds guessed she was three, mayhap four.
“Go ahead, Miss,” Mrs. Reynolds indulged the child who looked at her mother and only climbed up on the stool once she received a nod from that lady.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
At eleven, Fitzwilliam Darcy was the only Darcy child so far and the heir to Pemberley.
He and his cousin Richard, thirteen, the second son of the Earl and Countess of Matlock, were exiting their chambers when they heard what sounded like an expertly played Hayden sonata ringing through the halls of Pemberley.
“Wills, I thought Aunt Anne and Uncle Robert are visiting Snowhaven,” Richard stated.
“That is what I was told, Rich. Come, let us go greet my parents; hopefully the riffraff visiting my home have left already,” young Master Darcy sneered.
“Wills, how did you become such a snob?” Richard asked as he shook his head. He knew his cousin behaved as he should in front of his parents and could not understand where his arrogant attitude came from—although he suspected their Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had a hand in it.
When the two entered the music room, rather than Mr. Robert and Lady Anne Darcy, they saw an unknown couple with two girls watching a little girl playing at a level many adults had not reached, and Mrs. Reynolds looking on open mouthed.
“Who gave you permission to touch my mother’s instrument riffraff?” young Darcy demanded. The playing stopped in an instant, and the frightened girl began to cry. “I will recommend to my parents that they not allow such lowborn people as you into our house anymore.”
Richard Fitzwilliam tried to silence his cousin. He did not miss that the clothing the visitors were wearing was as good as anything they and their families wore, and neither did he miss the thundercloud that passed over the man’s countenance.
“Are you insensible, boy?” Bennet thundered as he hugged his frightened daughter to his side.
Fitzwilliam Darcy shrank back in fear. Never had anyone, except on occasion his father, asked him to account for his words or actions in such a way before.
“Do you not see your housekeeper standing right there?” Bennet pointed at a quaking Mrs. Reynolds.
“Did you think us some paupers who entered your house uninvited and sat down to use the instrument without permission?”
“Who are you to yell at my little sister?” Jane demanded with asperity.
Jane portrayed a picture of serenity until you hurt one she loved, then she could be most fierce in her protection of a loved one.
Mary stood on Elizabeth’s other side holding her sister’s hand tightly, also angry at the rude boy.
“I…er…um…” young Darcy stammered, belatedly realising he may have erred.
“Master William,” Mrs. Reynold regained her composure, “it is I who gave the young miss permission to play.” She turned to the Bennets, not missing the anger still written on the parents' faces as they hugged their daughters to them. “Your daughter’s playing is what I would expect from one three or four times her age. I apologise for the misunderstanding. Master William thought you were here uninvited.” Mrs. Reynolds tried to defend the young master.
“Unless the boy has no eyes in his head, he saw you when he entered the room, yet still decided he needed to assert his authority in a vulgar and unacceptable manner. You said the master of this estate is Mr. Robert Darcy, did you not?” Bennet asked.
“Yes sir,” Richard responded. “My Uncle Robert Darcy is master here.
“In a few days, I will be visiting my good friend Lord Paul Carrington; I believe he knows Mr. Darcy well. He will hear all, and I will request he pass it on to this whelp’s father,” Bennet pointed an accusing finger at the Darcy son, “so he may hear what sort of gentleman he is raising.” With that, the Bennet parents shepherded their daughters out to the waiting carriage.
“Wills, I have warned you to control your superior urges. Do you have any idea what your father will do when he hears of your behaviour today?” Richard asked.
A dejected and deflated young William nodded his head even as he hung it in shame.
Why had he yelled at a little girl, and one who could play so well?
He considered their clothing for the first time and started to realise how great an error he had made.
Richard and William walked to the main doors in time to see a large coach, comparable to the best his parents owned, pull away; it was drawn by six matched horses with the biggest footmen either boy had seen on the back bench.
“Wills, are not your parents and mine to visit Holder Heights next week?” Richard asked. and William nodded. “It seems the gentleman may be able to convey his message directly to your father. Are you not friendly with Jamey?” James Carrington was the twelve-year-old Holder heir.
“Yes, what of it?” William asked dejectedly.
“Think, man! You will have to get yourself invited to join your parents. No matter what happens, you need to apologise to those people,” Richard stated emphatically. “What has gotten into you to make you such an insufferable snob lately?”