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The Sugar Emporium

Covent Garden

London

May, 1842

“It is absolutely beautiful, Mr. Collins,” young Lucy Fletcher declared, her brown eyes wide with awe.

“You have outdone yourself, Father,” Tobias Collins agreed.

“It was the work of many people,” Mr. William Collins proclaimed, but his plump face was creased in a proud smile.

“I know,” Tobias commented affectionately, “but the methodology and the idea were both yours.”

The sugar sculpture, currently packed carefully in a padded box,was an impressive rendering of Buckingham Palace, with numerous small windows and parapets carefully devised out of sugar crystals.

“We have cleared out the front window for the sculpture,” Tobias informed his father happily, gesturing toward the glass casement which faced out upon the street. “I have no doubt many a customer will be enticed within our store with the new sculpture in place.”

The elder Collins waved a somewhat wrinkled hand, “That is your department, my dear boy. I may be a genius in many regards, but I find all the details of running a business quite beyond my capacity. I am thankful you are so gifted in that area.”

Tobias chuckled, “If you keep making exquisite creations out of sugar, Father, I believe the patrons will flock here regardless of what I do.”

“A carriage has just arrived in the side lane,” Lucy commented, peering through a window to the alley which led to the tradesman’s entrance to the shop. “I wonder who it could be. We are not opening for business for an hour!”

“Oh my, I lost track of time!” Mr. Collins exclaimed. “That would be Prince Albert. Do excuse me.”

The elder man rushed toward the side door, and a moment later, Tobias and Lucy heard him exclaim, “Your Royal Highness! I am very honored to see you today…”

Lucy Fletcher turned an incredulous gaze on her employer.

“Prince Albert?!” she gasped.

Tobias Collins nodded as he carefully covered the Buckingham Palace sculpture with a large piece of white cheesecloth, “Yes.”

“The husband of our Sovereign Queen Victoria?” the girl whispered incredulously.

“Yes. I intended to tell you about my father’s interactions with Prince Albert before His Royal Highness visited the Emporium, but the first week of your training flew by, and I did not make time. I apologize.”

“That is quite all right, Mr. Collins,” the girl returned nervously.

He gestured for her to proceed into the small back kitchen where both sat down and Tobias began fixing tea.

“Lucy, we chose you for the position here in the Emporium partly because we know you are a discreet young woman. My mother has given you high praise for your dislike of gossip.”

“Oh yes, sir. I know how … how terrible gossip can be.”

Tobias Collins nodded sympathetically. Lucy Fletcher was a shopkeeper’s daughter who had been thrown from her home based on false rumors that she had been defiled by a local farmer. The Collins family had welcomed her first to Longbourn and then transferred her to Netherfield, where she had proven a most gifted assistant in the sugar manufacturing center there.

“You were not yet born, and I was but a child, when Princess Charlotte died more than twenty years ago in childbirth. Naturally, there was great concern when our gracious Queen Victoria was due to give birth to her first child only a few years ago. My father has written several pamphlets regarding the best procedures for laboring women, and he assisted in the delivery of a number of babies, including Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s heir, William Darcy.”

“Was Mr. William Darcy named after your father, sir?” the girl cried out excitedly.

Tobias smiled at her, “Yes, he was. At any rate, my father’s pamphlets came to the attention of Prince Albert, and he requested that Mr. Collins be available to assist the Queen when she was close to her time. By the grace of God, both her first and second deliveries were relatively easy, but the Prince forged a friendship of sorts with my father through their dealings, and thus His Royal Highness secretly comes here on occasion to discuss various matters and state concerns with my father.”

“Why secretly, sir?” the girl inquired in a puzzled tone.

“My father is but a lowly clergyman, Lucy, and thus is disdained by many of the high and mighty of the land in spite of his considerable brilliance. And Mr. Collins does not care to be well known in any case. He despises most social engagements and finds the trappings of court etiquette exquisitely dull. I know that the prince appreciates my father’s advice and knowledge, but it is best for both that their association be kept quiet. I am trusting you to keep silent on this matter.”

“I promise that I will not breathe a word to anyone, sir!"

“I knew I could depend on you. Now, we need to fill the containers of spherical, cubic, and pyramidal sugar lumps. I expect today will bring many customers.”

“Yes, Mr. Collins.”

***

“Oh Nathaniel,” Lydia Stanton murmured, leaning closer to her beloved husband of five and twenty years, “are not the landscape and buildings lovely at this height?”

“They are,” he agreed, wrapping his arm protectively around her. The basket beneath the balloon was sturdy and the wicker sides waist high, but it would still not be wise to be at all casual three thousand feet above the ground.

Lydia sighed happily, “Being up in a balloon never grows old, Nathaniel. I hope I may go up when I am sixty years old, and eighty, and one hundred!”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek, “My dear, if you live to the age of one hundred and I to two and one hundred, we will both go up in a balloon to celebrate living to such ripe old ages. We will start at Hyde Park like we did this morning, and no doubt the crowds will be even more impressive as the majority of Londoners would enjoy watching an ancient couple being lifted into a basket with much wheezing and muttering. ”

She laughed aloud at this and turned to gaze to the northwest, “I do believe I see the outskirts of the city coming in sight. We should make ready the parachute.”

Nathaniel bent down to the large package at their feet and together man and wife wrestled it into position. Some fifteen minutes later, when the landscape beneath them was confined to fields and the occasional hamlet, they lifted the package to rest on the side of the basket, causing it to shift alarmingly with the change in the distribution of the weight.

“Are you ready?” Nathaniel inquired.

Lydia nodded, “One, two, three, go!”

Together, they heaved the parachute out of the balloon and clutched the sides of the basket as it swung in the heavens. Their eyes were fixed on the parachute, which was plummeting down and down and down and down and down until at last they could see the flare of white and blue silk, followed a few seconds later by a silent crash into the unforgiving earth below them.

Man and wife straightened up and stared at one another in dismay.

“It did not deploy properly,” the lady stated unhappily.

Nathaniel sighed, “No. It is most disappointing.”

Lydia allowed herself a full minute of despondency before straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, “Even a failure is useful information. It did partially flare out, but not enough and not quickly. I really think it would be most helpful if an aeronaut who is also a scientist did one of these jumps. That way ...”

“No, Lydia.”

She turned toward him, her brown eyes yearning, her pretty lips pouting, her eyelashes fluttering dramatically, “Oh, please, dearest husband, may I jump out of a balloon with a parachute?”

“No.”

She chuckled and threw her arms around him, and he returned her embrace with fervor.

“My darling Nathaniel,” she whispered into his ear, “would it not be glorious to float to the earth, to feel the breezes, to see the world in a new way?”

“You are my beloved wife and the mother of my children, and parachuting is ridiculously dangerous, my adored one. Content yourself with ballooning.”

Lydia sighed dramatically, “Very well, Nathaniel.”

***

Salisbury Estate

Wiltshire

“Oh, Lady Salisbury!”

Kitty, Marchioness of Salisbury, looked up in surprise as a young maid rushed precipitously into the office where she was conferring with her housekeeper.

“Yes, Maria?”

“Oh, my lady, Beatrice asked me to summon you to your art studio immediately.”

Kitty froze for a few seconds at this alarming request, and then was on her feet, out the door, through the south corridor, and into the glassed art studio which had been built by her beloved husband Hugh.

She stepped through the door and froze in astonishment at the scene. Her youngest children’s nursemaid, Beatrice Cates, was standing near the door wringing her hands in dismay and ...

Twenty years ago, Kitty would have been horrified by the scene in front of her. But the passage of time combined with the birth of ten children had relaxed her considerably; thus, she found herself leaning against a convenient wall, laughing.

Her art table, thankfully already stained by previous creative works, was currently supporting her two youngest children, male twins who were but three years of age. The elder twin, Samuel, had found one of her largest paintbrushes and was vigorously slapping paint all over his compliant twin, Jacob. Jacob’s usually pale hair was now an attractive shade of mauve, and his shirt and nankeens were blotched copiously with blue, red, and green paint. Thankfully, the twins had gotten into water based paint and thus would wash off easily enough. It was an incredibly humorous scene.

“I paint Jacob, Mama!” Samuel exclaimed, his eyes glowing with pride and joy.

“I see that, my dear,” Kitty responded, struggling with difficulty to suppress her mirth.

“My lady,” Beatrice exclaimed with tears in her eyes, “I thought the boys were napping but they must have crept out while I was refreshing myself. I am so very sorry.”

“Do not worry about it,” Kitty replied cheerfully. “I was working in here this morning and must have forgotten to lock the door, so it is my fault as well. Maria, please help Beatrice to carry Jacob upstairs for a bath. Samuel, my love, you should not play with Mama’s paints.”

The little boy gazed at her with piteous eyes which reminded his mother of the boy’s Aunt Lydia, “But Mama, the paint fun!”

“I know, sweetling, it is very fun,” she agreed, wiping off the boy’s sticky hands and assisting him down from the table. “But they are Mama’s paints and you made Jacob very messy.”

“Want my own paints!”

She looked down at her little son fondly. Most of her children were artists of one type or another.

“Very well, my dear, we will get you your own paints.”

***

Vauxhall Gardens

London

Georgiana Laurent leaned back in her chair and gazed around with pleasure. It was a lovely day, warm but not blazing hot, and the puffy clouds in the sky provided a stark contrast to the deep blue of the heavens.

“What think you, my dear?” Emil Laurent inquired with a gesture toward the stage. The orchestra had practiced for a full two hours and now were disbanding for a needed rest.

Georgiana smiled at her beloved husband, “They did quite well.”

Emil quirked an inquiring eyebrow, “Only quite well?”

“The strings section did not play entirely as I had hoped,” his wife admitted.

“This particular symphony of yours is exquisite but challenging. The strings were a trifle ragged, I agree, but this is an excellent orchestra and they will learn it in time.”

“I am certain they will,” Georgiana declared as she glanced at her watch, “Now we must hurry. I believe we told Mr. Tobias Collins that we would visit the Sugar Emporium in the early afternoon?”

“Yes,” Emil agreed, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to help her up. She did not need the assistance, of course, but his diligent attentions were one of the reasons that she loved him so much.

“Oh,” she continued as they began walking toward their waiting carriage, “I promised the children that after we visit the Sugar Emporium, we will purchase ices at the store two doors down.”

Emil laughed and patted her hand on his arm, “I am guessing the younger ones were excited about that.”

“All of them were, even Susannah, who tries to pretend that she is far too sophisticated to be thrilled by anything.”

“She has always loved ices,” Emil agreed with a slightly melancholy sigh. Susannah, their first born, had just turned nineteen and would soon be presented to society under the auspices of Mrs. Darcy and the Countess of Salisbury. Where had the time gone? He remembered her as a bald infant in his arms, and now she was grown.

As usual, Georgiana was able to guess what he was thinking.

“We still have four more children at home,” she murmuredin a comforting tone. “It will be many years before they have all flown the nest and by then, there will be grandchildren.”

“That is true enough,” her husband concurred. “I must say that I think it was quite remarkably intelligent of us to have a little daughter when you were one and forty, Georgiana. Arabella will keep our home full of energy well into our old age.”

“Oh yes, we were very intelligent indeed,” Mrs. Laurent said with a chuckle. “Of course, my own achievements in that area pale compared to that of Kitty.”

Her husband shuddered, “Her twins are an amazing gift, but the thought of two Arabellas is terrifying.”

Georgiana shivered as well, “Absolutely, completely terrifying, I quite agree.”

***

Longbourn

“Oh, Mrs. Collins!”

“Yes, Matilda?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, but Anna’s time has come.”

Charlotte Collins, who was working with one of the maids to organize the still room, straightened up in distress.

“Surely not! She is five weeks early.”

Matilda bit her lip with worry, “Her waters have just broken, Madam, and she confesses she has been having pains every three minutes.”

Charlotte shook her head at this news. Anna was the daughter of a wealthy gentleman from London and had been violated by an impoverished baronet who hoped to force her into marriage. Anna was blessed with kindly parents who would not force her to wed the man who attacked her, but when she was found to be pregnant, her family sent her to Longbourn for the sake of her younger sisters’ reputation. Charlotte found her a sweet, kind, and intelligent young woman, but the girl was also reeling emotionally from all that had come to pass in the last year. Today, Anna had probably been hoping that the pains would go away on their own, and thus waited until quite late to inform anyone of the impending arrival of her baby.

“Matilda, since Mr. Collins is in London, we will need the assistance of my son Simeon, who is at Netherfield working on the new stables. Kindly send a servant there as quickly as possible to summon him.”

“Oh, he is back here at Longbourn, Mrs. Collins. I saw him ride up twenty minutes ago.”

“Thank the Lord! Fetch him and tell him I will need his assistance with a premature delivery.”

“Yes, Mrs. Collins!”

***

“You are almost there, Anna,” Simeon Collins encouraged his young patient. “I see the head ... there we go. Congratulations, it is a boy!”

Charlotte smiled with relief at the sound of the lusty cry emanating from the small infant. She waited for her son to carefully cut the cord and then wrapped the baby in a clean blanket. She hoped that the infant would survive; even with more than twenty years of experience as a de facto midwife, she could not always save the babies born early.

“Oh!” her second son suddenly exclaimed.

“What is it?”

“My dear Anna,” Simeon said gently, “I do believe you are carrying twins!”

Anna shuddered through another painful contraction, before managing to gasp through clenched teeth, “Twins?”

“Yes. Do not be afraid, the baby is well positioned and in just a few minutes all will be well.”

As predicted, some fifteen minutes later another small baby entered the world, this one a girl.

Amid the vigorous cries of both newborns, Charlotte Collins leaned over to kiss Anna’s face, “My dear, you did a wonderful job and were quite incredibly brave. All is well now. Try to rest.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Collins,” the girl replied, her face sweaty, her eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion.

Charlotte gestured to the two midwives in training, each of whom held a baby in her arms,to follow her out, and Simeon came with them.

“We may well need a wet nurse,” Charlotte instructed the young midwives. “We will see how Anna does with feeding them both, but can you check with the other mothers to see if anyone can assist temporarily as needed?”

“Of course, Madam,” they both chorused, and carried the babies off to be washed and evaluated.

“Thank you, Simeon,” Charlotte said, reaching out to embrace her much taller son. “I was quite worried with your father in London, but you did a marvelous job.”

“Thank you, Mother. I am very glad that I was able to help Anna … Miss Redford.”

Charlotte froze at this and turned an intense gaze on the young man, whose face now suffused red before her eyes.

“Anna, is it?” she inquired carefully.

He looked down at the floor, “I … well, yes, Mother. I assure you I have done nothing inappropriate, but I find myself very attracted to her.”

Charlotte stared gravely into his eyes as she reached out to clasp his hands, “My dear boy, I admire and like Anna very much, but you must keep in mind that she has been harmed greatly by a man. If you wish to pursue her, you must be very careful and gentle about it.”

“I know, Mother. I promise you that I will be cautious and respectful of all that she has endured.”

***

Pemberley Cemetery

Derbyshire

“It seems odd that you have been gone five years, Mother,” Elizabeth Darcy said aloud, her eyes fixed on the grassy patch under which lay the coffin of her mother. “Fitzwilliam and I now have four children married and five grandchildren, with another one on the way. I suppose I am getting a little old, though I do not feel old. Nonetheless, I do not have the energy of my early days, when I would romp across the country and climb small mountains with ease. I know we did not always understand one another, Mother, but I am thankful your last years were comparatively peaceful here at Pemberley, far better than Lady Catherine’s were. She never really accepted the loss of Rosings and died an embittered old woman. At least Anne and Alexander are doing marvelously. I told you that they had three sons, and Alexander’s daughter from his first marriage is married now to one of Jane’s boys.”

She now turned on the bench so that she could face her father’s grave, “Father, you will find this interesting. Mr. Collins has published a treatise on Shakespeare and the Bible, and it has been very well received by the literary community. Mr. Darcy and I have signed first editions of all of Mr. Collins’s works, and I suppose in one hundred years they might well be worth a great deal …”

She trailed off as her beloved Fitzwilliam settled onto the seat next to her and wrapped a long arm around her petite form. They took a moment to enjoy a long kiss before Elizabeth relaxed into his embrace.

“Are you well?” Darcy asked tenderly.

“I am,” she assured him. “I realized it has been five years since my mother passed on, and I wanted to come down here to …”

“Remember,” he finished for her.

“Yes. It hardly seems possible it has been that long. I am seven and forty, Fitzwilliam.”

“I am five and fifty, my dear, and I feel every year of it right now.”

Elizabeth lifted her brows in curiosity, “Why?”

“Yesterday’s ride with our three sons and all the Martyn boys was long and hard. I had too much foolish pride to ask to turn back after a few hours, but today every muscle is aching.”

She laughed musically, and he laughed with her, his eyes fixed upon her captivating features. She was no longer the bride of his youth, her face was lined, her form slightly rounded from bearing their children, but she would always be the love of his life, his precious Elizabeth.

“I love you, Elizabeth.”

“I love you too.”

The End

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