In the weeks that followed, neither Darcy Gardiner nor Jessica were fully aware of the matters that impinged upon the life of Kathryn O'Hare, chiefly because their own lives were so deeply affected by events quite outside their control.
First came the election, in which Darcy's hero Mr Gladstone and his party of Reformists and Liberals won a decisive victory. Darcy had been summoned to Westminster by Colin Elliott and others, who sought to involve him in the celebrations as well as the policy work that would inevitably follow their return to government.
He was keen to go and his family urged him to do so; he had worked hard for many years hoping for just such a day. Taking leave of them, he promised to return anon with news of Mr Gladstone's plans for reform and the investiture of a new government.
Idealistic as ever, he was certain much would be achieved. He wrote optimistically from Westminster of the dawn of a great new era of social and political reform, in which he hoped to play a small part. Mr Colin Elliott was to be in the ministry, and Darcy had been invited to work for him.
When he had visited Rushmore Farm to take leave of his sister and Mr Carr, he had also met with Miss O'Hare. He had spoken with her briefly, but long enough to ascertain that she felt secure and comfortable at the farm. She thanked him again, most sincerely, for his part in helping her avoid her tormenter. They said farewell, with neither yet certain of the other's feelings, nor even of their own.
Then, not many weeks after he had arrived in London and settled into work at Westminster, Darcy received news of the death of his grandmother.
After some years of struggling on without the husband she had loved and depended upon during a long and remarkably good marriage, Mrs Gardiner had finally slipped away, leaving her family and friends grieving and her devoted staff at Oakleigh desolated at their loss.
Advised by electric telegraph, Darcy Gardiner returned at once to find that his father and mother were to bear the responsibility of making all of the arrangements for the funeral as well as the weight of consoling members of their family. Richard and Cassy had the onerous task of supporting Mr and Mrs Darcy in their grief, while their own children and the families of Emily and Caroline drew together to mourn a beloved grandmother.
Mrs Gardiner had always been the preferred confidante of both Jane and Elizabeth, closer to both her nieces than their own mother had ever been. The two sisters were deeply saddened, and a good deal of Cassy's time was spent supporting them.
Mr Darcy, who had respected and admired Mrs Gardiner over the years, was similarly grief-stricken. It was difficult for him to accept that his esteemed partner, Mr Gardiner, and his wife were both gone now; the close ties between them at an end.
Darcy Gardiner, arriving the day before the funeral, was drawn in to help, and in the days that followed, found he had neither the time nor the opportunity to call at Colley Dale. Some weeks previously, having settled Kathryn O'Hare at Rushmore Farm with his sister, Darcy and his brother-in-law, Mr Carr, had sought out the man Hartley-Brown and warned him to leave the district or face exposure. Despite his initial show of bravado, Hartley-Brown quite clearly did not wish to be confronted by the police, nor, when it was put to him, did he relish the prospect of facing an irate Lord Denny once his relationship with Lady Denny was revealed. Given a few days to leave the inn, before which he would need to pay his bills and settle his gambling debts, he had sullenly agreed to depart, not before he had tried to brazen it out and even demanded money—a request that had been rejected out of hand.
While in London, Darcy had heard from his sister Lizzie that her husband had discovered that Hartley-Brown had left the inn at Lambton and, it was believed, the county. Lizzie wrote that Kathryn, having spent a couple of happy weeks at Rushmore Farm, had decided it was safe to return to her parents at Colley Dale.
I did say she could stay for as long as she wished, but she was keen to rejoin her parents, who she was sure were missing her, Lizzie wrote and Darcy was most relieved.
A note received from Jessica confirmed that Kathryn was now able to come and go without fear of harassment.
It is a great relief to all of us that the man is no longer in this district, she wrote and so it was to Darcy, also.
Some days after the funeral of Mrs Gardiner, Darcy went to Colley Dale. He found Kathryn at home, looking remarkably at ease. She was clearly pleased to see him, and they spent an hour or more in conversation, during which she thanked him once again for his part in saving her from the unwelcome attentions of Hartley-Brown.
“Mr Gardiner, I do not recall that I ever had the opportunity, while in a calm frame of mind, to tell you how very grateful I was for your intervention and for the kindness of your sister, Mrs Carr, and her husband. Jessica knows how deeply I appreciated it, for I have never ceased to tell her so, but you were gone too soon to Westminster, before I could compose my thoughts sufficiently to speak with you and I did not have an address to write you a letter either.” She was particular that he should know how much she had appreciated his help.
“Jessica could have given you my address in town, if you had applied to her,” he said lightly and though she looked up at him sharply, at what might have been a gentle rebuke, she could tell from his tone and expression that he was teasing her.
“I know, but I did not wish to make such a point of it,” she replied and went on, “but now you are here, please accept my heartfelt thanks, even though they are later than perhaps they should have been.”
Her sincerity was clear and it was all he could do to reassure her, that his pleasure flowed from seeing and knowing that her situation was much improved and she could move around the village as she chose, unafraid.
“Indeed I can and I hope and pray it remains so,” said she.
When they parted, he gave her his card with his address in town, saying with a smile, “There, now you may write to me whenever you wish,”
She accepted it with thanks and bit her lip to hold back a light riposte. She was still a little confused by the tone of his voice, but happy indeed with the implication of his words. They had seemed to suggest that such a communication as she may choose to send would be welcome.
Some days later, on the eve of Darcy Gardiner's return to London, Mr and Mrs Darcy invited a few people to dine at Pemberley. Among them was Kathryn O'Hare, to whom the invitation had been delivered by Jessica.
“It is to be mostly family and since they all know you, you will be quite at ease,” she had said, when Kathryn had seemed a little reluctant to attend, whereupon she had accepted with pleasure.
Edward Gardiner and his wife, Angela, were present also, having stayed on after the funeral to visit their respective families.
Though, out of respect for the late Mrs Gardiner, it was generally a quiet occasion, the guests enjoyed an excellent meal and interesting conversation. Darcy had many political tales to tell from Westminster, and Edward, who now practised in Harley Street, had his own news to give, though it was mostly of the eminent medical men he had met and the many worthy citizens he had treated. His wife, Angela, who did not trouble herself to engage in much conversation, sat mainly with Sir Richard and Lady Gardiner and the Darcys, and throughout the evening, addressed her rare remarks almost exclusively to them.
Being the only outsider in the party, Kathryn had felt a little awkward at first, until Jessica and Darcy joined her and, seating themselves on either side of her at dinner, kept her happily involved in their conversation. Elizabeth had been especially keen to ask Kathryn, to demonstrate her belief in her as well as to please Jessica, who had completely convinced her of their friend's integrity.
With dinner over, the company repaired to the drawing room, where Lizzie Carr and Jessica played and sang for them.
After which, Mrs Darcy, exercising her prerogative as hostess, invited Kathryn to sit down at the pianoforte. She was at first overcome with shyness, but when she was persuaded to comply, her performance of a charming nocturne by the Irish composer John Field was so exceptional, that it had everyone exclaiming at the skill and beauty of her playing and demanding she play some more.
When she left the instrument, Darcy Gardiner was not the first to congratulate her, but he was certainly one of the most appreciative.
“That was very beautiful, Miss O'Hare,” he said, adding quickly, “I had no idea you played so well. I have heard no one in recent times who has performed with such delicacy and depth of expression. I must confess I am unfamiliar with the composer John Field, is he a favourite of yours?” he asked.
She thanked him for his kind words and explained her choice of the piece, after which they spent a little time together, as they took coffee, speaking more about John Field and his music.
“He is Irish but very well regarded in Europe, where he gave many concerts and lived for much of his later life,” she said and he expressed his surprise that Ireland's major classical composer was so little known in England.
In the course of their conversation, Kathryn learned that Darcy had once studied music with his sister, thereby accounting for his sensitive and discerning remarks on her performance.
“I have always loved music, but had neither the talent nor the patience to become a proficient performer; I play for relaxation and pleasure alone; now Lizzie is much better than I am. She would practice a lot more than I did and has a real gift,” he said.
“Indeed she has,” replied Kathryn. “I had the pleasure of hearing her play often when I stayed at Rushmore Farm and was quite astonished at the facility with which she would pick up a new composition and play it with such confidence. It is an exceptional talent.”
Kathryn revealed that she had studied pianoforte in Belgium with one of the finest musicians in the city of Brussels.
“If I could play only half as well as he could, I would be content,” she said, to which Darcy replied, “I am quite certain that if he could hear you play now, he would declare himself well pleased with your performance. It was quite exquisite.”
Unbeknownst to them, their conversation, which had become more intimate as it progressed, was being watched by Edward Gardiner's wife, Angela, herself a lady of some musical talent. She too had admired Kathryn's performance at the pianoforte and applauded politely, but unlike many others in the party, she had made no move to congratulate her.
The reason was a strange one. It lay in the fact that Mrs Edward Gardiner had, while living in London, become closely acquainted with Lady Fitzwilliam and her daughter Rose Gardiner. From them she had heard some, though certainly not all, of the story of Miss Kathryn O'Hare's stay at Lindfield Towers, which had diminished her opinion of the lady.
On returning to Oakleigh, where they were staying while in Derbyshire, Angela was moved to relate all this to her husband, with the added spice that she had observed his brother Darcy at dinner and afterwards deeply engrossed in conversation with Miss O'Hare.
“I think I would have to say, my dear, that your brother seems very taken with her. I wonder whether he is aware of her past conduct. Perhaps, Edward, as his elder brother, you may wish to caution him, urge him to beware of any deeper involvement. It would be most unfortunate, would it not, if Darcy were to make such an unsuitable match?”
Edward gave the matter some thought and agreed with his wife, as he usually did on such subjects. A keen and busy medical practitioner, Edward had little time to spend in the contemplation of such trivial matters, and like many active men, rather than argue the point with his wife, he preferred to take the simple way out by adopting her opinions. It required less effort and generally made for a more peaceful life.
Which is how he came to write to his brother Darcy on the subject of his friendship with Miss Kathryn O'Hare.
Two other observers had also noticed the happy flow of conversation between Darcy and Kathryn and drawn very different conclusions. Lizzie Carr, who, much earlier in the piece, had become aware of her brother's unrequited love for their cousin Jessica Courtney, had begun of late to hope that he had quite recovered from his earlier disappointment and was ready to open his heart to another young woman. And if that woman were to be Kathryn O'Hare, Lizzie's satisfaction would have been complete.
During the days she had spent at Rushmore Farm, Lizzie and her husband had improved their acquaintance with the lady and liked her very well.
Mr Carr, whose American heritage meant he was accustomed to personable and articulate women with strong opinions of their own, was very impressed with her erudition and general intelligence, while his wife declared her to be “a most interesting and witty companion, with a wide range of interests.”
They were both agreed that she was also charming and talented. All these attributes combined to convince them that Miss O'Hare would probably make a very agreeable partner for her brother.
“If I were to say that I think my dear brother may be very close to falling in love with Kathryn, what would you say?” Lizzie asked her husband as they sat at dinner one evening.
He did not appear at all astonished by her question.
“Lizzie, if that is the case, then I believe he will be very happy with her, should they marry. I can see nothing adverse or disadvantageous in the match, can you?” was his reply, and they were agreed that Miss O'Hare certainly seemed a most acceptable young lady.
“She is both intelligent and charming, and should your brother decide to stand for Parliament, as he may well do, such a wife will be a considerable asset to him,” Mr Carr added.
Meanwhile Jessica, who had by now become quite convinced that it was only a matter of time before Darcy and Kathryn would discover the true extent of their mutual affection, wrote to Julian, declaring that an engagement could not be far off and if a wedding were to follow, this was one occasion for which he must surely return to Pemberley.
Darcy is in London at present, but he will be back for Christmas and it is my hope they will become engaged then. Dear Julian, how I wish you too could be here at that time, but I know you must be very busy and will want to complete your work before the new year, she wrote and only just succeeded in holding back her tears, as she dispatched her letter to the post, unaware that the man to whom it was addressed was, at that very moment, embarking upon the journey that would bring him back to Pemberley for Christmas.
On a cold morning in London, with not a great deal of enthusiasm for leaving his warm bedroom and setting out for Whitehall, Darcy Gardiner broke the seal on the letter from his brother Edward, casually and without thinking what its contents might hold.
His brother did not communicate with him very often, and Darcy assumed this would be a formal note of thanks for his part in making the arrangements for their grandmother's funeral. (Edward had been very busy at his practice and had arrived on the morning of the funeral.)
On opening the letter, however, Darcy was surprised to find it comprised of two pages, closely written and clearly of rather serious import.
My dear Darcy, it began, and then went on in a most unexpected fashion:
I am not unaware that most young gentlemen do not easily admit of any interference even from their nearest relations, into their personal affairs.
Far be it from me, then, to attempt such interference or to dictate to you in matters of the heart, but I do hope, my dear brother, that you will accept my advice in the spirit in which it is proffered.
Surprised, Darcy read on.
In the very important matter of matrimony, there is much to be considered before a final decision is made. Your family, especially your parents and siblings, must be considered, as well as the credit of your name and reputation in society, and, of course, there is your own prospect of happiness.
All these are in jeopardy, should you make an error of judgment in the important matter of choosing a wife. One false step will bring misery to many, including yourself.
Puzzled indeed by this line of argument, Darcy continued reading.
I know you will probably be well aware of all this and would surely not require to be reminded of it, but, I think also, and my dear Angela reminds me, that we men are weak creatures when it comes to the fair sex and when we are blinded by fascination, especially if the lady is both beautiful and talented. However, appearance, dear brother, is not everything and one must look to character and reputation.
Now, I do not mean to suggest that the lady in question is wanting in character, but that it is best to make certain enquiries first and satisfy yourself, and your family, that she is all you believe her to be, prior to making any commitment.
No doubt she is both attractive and elegant and, as she certainly proved in her performance at Pemberley, exceedingly talented, but is she right for you and your family?
Darcy read the letter through twice, before deciding that Edward was warning him against making an offer to Kathryn O'Hare. Since he had not at any time mentioned the lady's name, no doubt deeming it to be indelicate to do so, the letter had seemed at first to be a general sermon on matrimony. Only in the last two lines had his exact intention become clear.
When he realised the implications of his brother's words, Darcy was furious! His first response was, “How dare he?”
His immediate inclination was to sit down at once and write a curt note requesting that Edward mind his own business.
But, on reflection, Darcy realised that it was possibly Angela, his wife, who had urged him to write and it would be unfair to take it all out on Edward.
He decided then to ignore the letter altogether.
There was, however, one part of it he could not ignore. How, he wondered, had his brother, and possibly his sister-in-law, come to the conclusion they had about himself and Kathryn? They had only observed them on one or two occasions. Could he have given them the impression that he was in love with the lady?
Darcy could not be certain.
Thinking over their association, he wondered about his feelings, and the more he wondered, the more he became convinced that he had probably failed to see something that was plain to others.
Kathryn O'Hare was a charming young woman with a very particular appeal that Darcy had not found in others of his acquaintance. Aside from her looks, her conversation was unfailingly intelligent, her interests more diverse than those of most ladies he knew, and he was to admit upon reflection, that it would be very easy to fall in love with her.
He mused, if his brother Edward, who noticed very little outside of his own professional business, had perceived it, would not others have done so too? It was, he had to admit, a distinct possibility that they had.
This line of thought changed his attitude to his brother's letter altogether, for it now appeared that, by drawing his attention to it, Edward had forced him to acknowledge something he had ignored for some little while.
It was therefore with a new interest that Darcy now looked forward to his return to Pemberley at Christmas.
It would be good to meet Kathryn again, he thought, and decide for himself whether there was between them that extra spark which denotes the beginning of feelings warmer and more enduring than mutual admiration and good company.
Having finally persuaded himself that despite the foul weather, it was important to brave the cold, wet streets of London, Darcy addressed himself to the business at hand. There were papers to be read and breakfast to be eaten. He was in the midst of these essential activities, when the doorbell rang and Mr David Fitzwilliam was admitted.
Darcy's surprise was obvious—almost, he feared, to the point of rudeness— although he hastily assured his cousin that he had not intended it to be so.
“Why, David, what are you doing in London? Not bearing more bad news from home, I hope?” he had said, and seeing his cousin's astonishment, he relented and assured him he was very welcome.
Swiftly sending for more tea and toast, Darcy tried to make amends, “I do apologise, David, I did not mean to appear inhospitable or rude, I was just so startled to see you, I thought something dreadful had happened at home in Derbyshire and you had been sent to break it to me. But since that is obviously not the case, you are very welcome indeed. I do hope you are staying a few days, I should like to take you into the Commons and let you hear the debates.”
Several cups of tea and much hot buttered toast later, it emerged that David Fitzwilliam had come up to London not so he could see the nation's leaders at work, but in the hope of obtaining his cousin's advice on what he termed “a delicate and very confidential matter.”
Darcy was interested, “Is it a business proposition?” he asked, thinking immediately that his cousin had been offered a position in a firm and was concerned about its suitability. But David was adamant it was a far more important matter.
“Oh no, no,” he said, “it is much more worrying than that. Seriously, Darcy, I do need your counsel; I cannot afford to make a mistake. “
Puzzled, Darcy urged his cousin to tell all, and when he did, was all astonishment at what he heard.
Unbeknownst to most members of the families at Matlock and Pemberley, an interesting new association had developed, mainly in Manchester, where David now spent a good deal of his time.
A certain Miss Lucinda Longhurst had been appointed to work as a teacher at the small private school started by David's sister Isabella Bentley for the children of the area, and David, who had met the lady socially and admired her greatly, confessed that he had reached the conclusion that he was in love with her.
“I have been pondering these last few months what I should do. Should I speak to her of my feelings? How is she likely to respond? Or must I wait until I have obtained some more lucrative employment before I approach her? I need some sound advice, Darcy; what do I do?”
Darcy was amused as well as surprised, not only because his cousin seemed so totally unready for the experience, but also because of the strange parallel with his own situation.
Although he was some years older than Darcy, David, the son of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline, being a somewhat solitary young fellow after the death of his older brother Edward, had often turned to his younger cousins for counsel as he faced the challenges and hazards of growing up.
Edward Gardiner had been too busy with his medical studies, but Darcy had felt some sympathy for his cousin, and as their fathers and grandfathers before them had become close friends, Darcy Gardiner and David Fitzwilliam had looked to each other for friendship and company.
For his part, Darcy had disregarded the difference in their ages, finding in David a more congenial if occasionally rather naïve companion than his own brother Edward. Thus it was that he now turned his attention to what might be called David's love life, although he was quite sure David would be far too shy to call it any such thing!
While Darcy remembered well their governess Miss Fenton, he had only a very hazy memory of her niece, Lucy Longhurst, who had for a short time been governess to his siblings, James and Laura Ann, before she had moved to Manchester to live with her aunt. He had therefore to rely almost entirely upon David's description of her appearance and character.
“Darcy, she is quite beautiful! I am astonished that she is not already engaged, especially in view of her sweet nature, sound education, and exceptional talents,” he said, and the superlatives flowed easily.
“My sister Isabella regards her very highly. 'Lucy is a little miracle!' she says. 'She is so good with the girls; she has them all learning their letters and sewing handkerchiefs and fashioning pincushions and Lord knows what else… they do not waste a single minute of the day.'”
David was clearly impressed, too, for he declared that he had seen Miss Lucy Longhurst at work with the children of Isabella's school and had been amazed at her proficiency.
“And all this she accomplishes without a single harsh word and no sign whatsoever of the dreaded cane! Darcy, she is an angel!” he declared, adding, “It seems so strange that she has not been spoken for!” David appeared genuinely puzzled.
“Could it have something to do with the lady's lack of a fortune?” his cousin asked quietly.
David seemed very shocked at the suggestion. “Could it? Do you believe that is the case?”
“Well, David, I wouldn't know, but some men, and I exempt you, of course, may believe that a young woman who must make her living as a school teacher is not sufficiently well endowed. Many young men today are seeking to wed a woman of substance, with property, shares, and influence even. They rate this above looks and education—certainly above talent and the ability to teach young children to read and sew.”
David looked so revolted, Darcy had to smile.
“Darcy, are you serious? Do you mean to tell me that most men, even you, would so regard a lady that her beauty, however uncommon, her good nature and accomplishments would rate lower in their estimation than her fortune?”
Darcy laughed but spoke more gently this time. “No, my dear fellow, I certainly would not—but many would. In London society today, there are several young men from well-established but impoverished families, who are very short of money to support their extravagant habits. They would not marry a young lady without a fortune. Oh they would certainly admire her and even flirt with her, or worse, but marriage would not be considered prudent unless there was some prospect of money or a thriving business involved.”
“And love?” asked David, with a degree of innocence that touched Darcy.
“Ah yes, love; well, David, I think we have to accept that some men only believe they are really in love with a lady after they have glimpsed the gleam of gold.”
“That is disgusting!” said David and proceeded to declare, “But I do not care a fig about fortune!” as he rose from his chair and walked about the room, clearly agitated and unhappy, expressing his outrage at the conduct of others of his sex, “I love her and that is enough.”
“Then,” said Darcy, “you need not worry at all. If you love Miss Longhurst and believe she returns your affection, all should be plain sailing. There is no more fortunate man than one who loves and is loved in return.”
David, still shaken but a little more confident, confessed that he had considered the matter very carefully, and while he was quite certain of his own feelings and had hopes of their being returned, he had not wished to propose to the lady until he had secured his own future.
“I must have some occupation—a secure position somewhere, before I can make her an offer. Do you understand, Darcy?”
Darcy agreed, “Indeed I do, and I am in complete accord with you. A man cannot propose marriage to a young lady unless he has something to offer, apart from himself, of course. Tell me, have you spoken of this matter—of your feelings for Miss Longhurst—to your sister or your mother? What has been their response?” Darcy asked.
His cousin shook his head and said ruefully, “No, I have not. To tell you the truth, Darcy, I have been reluctant to speak too openly of the matter to anyone, lest it become common talk and be conveyed to Miss Longhurst herself or her aunt Miss Fenton. I should not wish her to know of my feelings, except from my own lips, once I have ensured that I have a reasonable offer to make and secured my parents' blessing.”
While he thoroughly approved of this sensible attitude, Darcy was now at a loss to understand how he could further assist his cousin. Unless David was hoping he could help him secure a position in London, he could not perceive what more he could do for him.
“David, may I ask how you wish me to help you in this matter?” he asked, sounding rather more tentative than before.
At this, David sat up straight in his chair, looking quite surprised at the question.
“Why, Darcy, I do believe you have helped me already. Speaking about it with you has made me see my situation more clearly. I now know what I must do; my chief concern now is, how shall I do it?”
Darcy Gardiner was generally a patient man, but his cousin's meanderings were beginning to exasperate him. He recalled the many times they had talked in similar vein, when David had been determined to pursue a career in the cavalry. It had taken many hours of argument and a few persuasive lectures from his uncle Julian Darcy to make David realise the futility of his ambition.
Not the most decisive of young men, though in many ways an amiable and charming fellow, David needed firm handling and wise counsel. Often he needed only to be prodded in the right direction and would readily follow good advice.
Darcy decided it was time to be firm.
“David,” he said in a voice that brooked no interruption, “I think you need to go away and think things over very carefully and sensibly, before you approach anyone. Having done so, you should then advise your sister and parents of your intentions towards Miss Longhurst and your desire to secure a stable position with an independent income, after which you could call on the lady and declare your feelings with confidence.”
David, having listened very earnestly, said, “Do you not suppose that in the meantime, she will begin to wonder at my silence? Were I to say nothing, will she not believe me to be indifferent to her?”
Darcy's patience was almost at an end. “My dear fellow, I cannot speak for Miss Longhurst, but most young ladies of good sense and sensibility are well aware of being the object of our admiration and conscious of a gentleman's interest in them. If your Miss Longhurst is as clever as you say she is, she will have guessed that you have gone away to consult with your family and will be back anon.”
“As indeed I am and I will. Thank you, Darcy, I see it all in quite a different light now, and everything seems much clearer,” he said, rising and moving to the door. “I had better be gone; there are things I must do.”
“Exactly,” said Darcy, much relieved. “Go to it and I wish you luck with your quest. Should you succeed, and I see no reason why you should not, I look forward to wishing you both happiness in the near future.”
As David hurried out, thanking him again as he went, Darcy just managed to conceal a smile, as he said, “I shall never forget your kindness, Darcy; thank you again, and remember, you must call on me if I can be of any help, at any time,” and disappeared down the street.
Returning to his room, Darcy realised that despite the aggravation it had caused, the strange conversation he had just had, had not been in vain.
He too had begun to see things more clearly as a result of considering his cousin's predicament.
His own feelings for Kathryn O'Hare were now at the very centre of his concerns, following upon Edward's presumptuous letter and David's naïve and often incoherent musings; it was no longer possible for him to deny it.
Picking up his brother's letter, he read it through again; it irked him and he felt impelled to write a sharp reply, but postponed acting upon the impulse, lest he be tempted into immoderate language which may betray his true feelings. The longer his brother and sister-in-law were kept in ignorance of his intentions the better, he decided.
Shortly afterwards, he was dressed and ready to leave for Whitehall, when a letter was brought in—it had been delivered by express.
Seeing the handwriting, Darcy opened it hurriedly.
It was from Jessica. She wrote:
Dear Darcy,
I have just heard from Cousin Lizzie that you are expected home on Christmas Eve and wondered if I may trouble you to do me a very personal favour.
I have little opportunity here to look for something particular, that I wish to get Julian for Christmas, and wondered if you would select for me a little token of my affection, which I may be able to give him as a gift on Christmas Day.
We have as yet no news if he is to be home for Christmas; I hope with all my heart he is, but if he is not, I shall send it to him in the post, with my love.
I know I can trust you to get something tasteful—Julian abhors anything flashy, as you know—perhaps a plain pin or a watch chain. I shall leave it to you, confident of your excellent taste.
Thank you and God bless you,
Jessica Courtney
Enclosed was some money, which had tumbled out of the folded note.
Darcy stood quite still, her letter in his hand, moved by the simple honesty of her words. They had come as he was contemplating his own situation and served to confirm his feelings. By afternoon, Darcy had decided that he could no longer avoid making a decision about his future. Impelled first by David's rambling revelations and then Jessica's lucid expression of love for Julian, to consider his own situation, Darcy had concluded that he must talk to Kathryn, tell her of his feelings for her, and discover if she cared for him. If she did, he would ask her to marry him.
When he left Whitehall that evening, having bade good-bye to his colleagues and friends, he felt quite elated. Visiting a shop he knew well, he selected for Jessica a plain gold watch chain, of a design he knew would suit Julian Darcy, whose distaste for ostentation was well known. He purchased also a simple diamond ring, which he had packed and put away privately among his things.
Returning to his apartment, he collected his things, packed a portmanteau, and called a hansom cab. At the station, he bought a ticket to Derby and boarded a north-bound train. It was still a few days to Christmas, but London with its crowded, cold streets held little attraction for him.
Once the excitement of the election victory had passed, he had found his political work rather more tedious and far less rewarding than he had expected. He saw less of Colin Elliott and others of his friends, who were now in the ministry and busy with the minutiae of legislation to disestablish the Irish Church.
There was much less now of the fine talk of personal liberty, the doctrine of John Stuart Mill and plans for the reform of the civil service and the introduction of a system of public education for all children. They seemed to have receded into the background, while matters of the Irish Church occupied the government.
Disappointed, if not entirely disillusioned, Darcy Gardiner was tired of London. Home, he decided, was where he wanted to be, and the person he most wished to see was Kathryn O'Hare.