Chapter One
X
Pemberley
December 1918
X
"It will have to be sold, sir." Darcy turned, unfortunately expecting nothing less, to Mr. Oakham, solicitor and long-term overseer of the family's accounts. Mr. Oakham hovered in the middle of the room, taking refuge on the Turkish carpet amongst the gnawed furnishings, eroded as mountains are.
"All of it?" He asked.
"I'm afraid so, sir." Oakham's pronounced chin led the bow of his head. Darcy shuffled, shifting his weight between both of his legs stiffly.
"It is not all as bad as it seems, surely?"
"I'm afraid so." He repeated, and then found the need to elaborate, "It is the way with so many of these great houses –"
This was interrupted by Darcy – "It served in the war effort," – who was looking around the place. Although not likened to the dark tunnelled, white tented, or brown grassed medical centres of France, the chore of the past few years was visible in every part of the house. Whole rooms had been shelled out to accommodate beds, and forgotten wisps of bandages and that smell fractured the floors like artillery shells. The result was reminiscently distasteful.
"Even so," Oakham touched delicately, aware of the weight of the beast behind him. "It grieves me to say that not enough surplus to secure the continuation of the property's operation was considered or accounted for in your absence."
"Is there any way to save the house, the lands, the people?"
"The land is worn-out, the house over-worked, and the staff – there are not the… it will take a great deal of financing, Mr. Darcy." Oakham said – flicking through his portfolio with a precision only a tense pause could bring. "One I am not sure your finances can produce."
"No," Darcy thought of the blooms of the years before. The ripe fruits, losing oneself, and the hazy harvest afternoons: workers smoking along the horizon, the tarring scent rising and merging with the pregnant sun. The succulent apple, begging to be bitten again, soured as he looked out over the wasted earth, turned up against the blades of the plough and pushed back into itself. "I don't think they can. There are savings, but they must be protected."
"Then I am sorry. I will return to the office and draft up the papers before the end of the week."
"The week? We wouldn't survive the winter?"
"Perhaps… You understand, I am sure you do, Mr. Darcy, that it may be a while before a suitable buyer becomes available. No one in England, I'm sure, but perhaps an American."
Darcy swung his face back towards him, and he had become very creased. "… And what – What would be needed to keep it?" He asked.
Oakham grappled for an answer, very much wanting to offer assistance. The Darcy family had been tremendously good to, and for him over the years. They, of course, could have afforded to take their business down to London, but hadn't. Many business men could only wish for such a family, Oakham knew. "Selling off a great deal of the remaining land would soften the blow slightly." However, despite his intentions, this was a very small conciliation to hear.
"What would be needed for the house?"
"For the house… a miracle, sir," Then, sotto voce, "A bloody great gesture from God should do it."
Darcy, hearing, tipped his head, "Understood. Thank you for your time, Mr. Oakham."
"I will try to do something."
"Thank you, you've been exceptionally good.." to me, to us, these years, left unsaid – squashed before it could even rise in the throat. Oakham dipped his head again, remembering and aware. As Darcy gestured towards the door, his stillness rose to the forefront of Oakham's mind once more. Throughout their tour of the house, Darcy had walked from point 'A' to point 'B' almost stoically, and with most certainly an agonising amount of pain rippling below the surface (almost too intense to watch), then stood as rooted as an oak – except the curious shuffle of weight between each leg. It was noted that perhaps it wasn't all to do with the darkening of the mood, but as no attention was drawn in this direction by Darcy, the solicitor remained mute on the matter.
Oakham followed Darcy's sweeping gesture towards the door, stepping away and placing one hand on the handle. "One more thing," He paused itchingly, thinking of bunting and flags and of a good slice of cake, "London and the parades – was it –"
"Was it what you'd hoped? I'm the wrong man to ask." Came Darcy's carefully placed reply.
"You weren't there?"
"They charged extra for cots-with-a-view. Good day, Mr. Oakham – Mrs. Reynolds will see you to your car." With that, the conversation was dead.
X
Georgiana held the receiver to her ear, listening to her brother's voice, faint and crackly – as in her nightmares – down the line. "Are aunt and uncle looking after you?"
"Yes, Fitzwilliam – I am fine here, I wanted to ask –"
" – Lord Ferndean is still visiting you?"
"He comes often," She confirmed, her cheeks rosed. "He's very nice." Darcy nodded, letting his weight sag against the wall. Good – at least his sister would be well looked after and provided for. He knew that she deserved nothing less for her perseverance. It pained him that he had missed the transition from girl into woman, but he thought her marvellous none the less.
"And a gentleman?"
"Yes." Georgiana sighed – tired of dancing around the topic, "Now please tell me about your meeting with Mr. Oakham."
There was a long pause, with Georgiana listening to the static, and his voice is solemn when it came. "Georgiana, Pemberley won't survive, there isn't enough to save it."
"Nothing?"
"No…" Her breath hitched in her throat. They all knew it was bad, but this… The loss of the house and the history of the place was too much. "Oh, no, Georgiana. Please, don't be upset. We all knew this was a long time coming."
"I know," She whispered, "But it's still my home, and for a period when you were gone I was sure that everything would be as it should." As with Mr. Oakham – her words are carefully loaded which gave Darcy pause. He let his eyes close, and took a deep breath. He imagined himself looking back over his shoulder and finding himself standing at the bottom of a huge suspended wave. He's helplessly trapped, and other's must whisper, and tiptoe ever so quietly for fear that the water plunge and engulf him.
Is that how I'm seen, even by you, Georgiana, he almost asked but doesn't.
"As Mr. Oakham said, this is often the way with great houses."
"With great houses… but oh, brother, I must talk to Robin. I am sure he would –"
"No, Georgiana, you mustn't."
"He –"
"No, it would be unacceptable to place this sort of burden upon another. I know he cares deeply for you, and I know that there estates are… as safe as they are numerous, but this is our… our – ours." His voice is firm, unyielding, and it made Georgiana shrink back into herself. "Promise you will not mention it to him. I will come to London, see what can be done, but Mr. Oakham is drawing up papers for a sale."
"What about father?" Georgiana's brow crinkled and her eyes softened. Darcy can read her expression from her voice, which is touched and quiet.
"I haven't told him."
"He knows, Fitzwilliam."
"He knows something, he does not know the full extent."
"I want to come home." She whispered, but unafraid to say it now.
"I will be in London soon. I can take you back with me?"
"Okay." She glanced at the time. "You have to go."
"I do… Don't worry, and I'll be with you soon."
X
Once they said their goodbye to each other, Georgiana buttoned her coat and stepped out into the cold. The streets were quiet as she walked, but small groups huddled together as they scuttled about – collars draw up against the thick wind. She thought of Pemberley as she walks, as she often does in London. She always finds a strange parallel between the city and the house, and when lonely, imagines walking the gallery instead of the street, seeing every window replaced with one of their paintings. There's Charles Darcy, and her mother – there's the black sheep, larger than life in a shop window, and the thought made her smile.
A car horn sounded behind her, forcing her to turn – her eyes almost hidden by her cap. A car pulled up, full of laughter – topless and shiny. There were three figures in the car, and it took a moments squinting for her to realise it's Lord Greycote driving – and in the back, alarmingly, are the two eldest Bennet sisters. The laughter died immediately, and as Georgiana doesn't know how to behave in this situation, she remained silent but stepped closing to the car.
"I thought it was you, Georgiana!" It's Daniel, jovial as always. "I said, 'I bet that is Georgiana Darcy' – but they didn't believe me."
"Hello, Daniel. It's good to see you again." She went for politeness, for lack of any other options, although it sat a little off kilter.
"Hello, Georgiana," Came a soft voice from the back seats and it's Jane, lovely, kind Jane who had always said nice words to Georgiana. Her soft voice washed over her, and she couldn't help a weak smile. "Are we able to give you a lift somewhere? Daniel is driving us back to Hertfordshire, but I'm sure we can give you a lift as far as we can." She said earnestly, her lips pursed at the thought of Georgiana in the wind, looking like one gust could blow her away.
Georgiana shook her head, pointing with numb fingers down the street. "No, thank you. I'm going to my aunt and uncles, they live just around the turn." Her eyes flicker to Elizabeth before she can stop them. Elizabeth is looking away, her hair is shorter, and her gaze fixed on a father and his child on the other side of the street, and if she noticed Georgiana's lie, she had the grace not to let it be known. No one quite knew what happened – but Georgiana thought of her brother's first injury, of Elizabeth returning to Pemberley, of her bags being packed after a few days, and her departure. Georgiana thought of her brother's return in in October, determination to not – under any circumstances, or pain of death – mention the drama, and couldn't help but feel a little possessive of him.
"It wouldn't be any bother." Daniel promised. Georgiana turned her eyes back to see him smiling with beseeching eyes.
"Thank you very much for your offer, but I'll walk. I'm sure that my – that… You would be most welcome at home, Daniel, if you were to ever come up."
"I will, I promise." Daniel nodded earnestly. "I'll come soon."
Georgiana left and Daniel and Jane watched her until she was out of sight. Once she was gone Jane turned to Elizabeth, but Elizabeth leant over, said something to Daniel and the trance was broken.