Prior to visiting his aunt, Darcy Gardiner went to Ripley, to meet the man who wished to lease land for a flower farm.

Having discussed the prospect with his mother, he had taken her advice that it would be best to ascertain more about Mr Mancini and his plans before taking it to Emily.

Cassandra had been quite enthusiastic about the scheme. “What a good idea; no doubt there is a growing demand for blooms in the cities, and if they can be transported on the railway, it might prove very profitable,” she said, clearly pleased with the suggestion.

“Enough to pay Aunt Emily a reasonable sum on a lease?” Darcy asked.

“Certainly; look how well Colonel Fitzwilliam has done by leasing the lower meadows on his property for cattle pasture. It used to be idle land—too wet for sheep and too poor for crops. It brings him a good return now, with very little effort or expense,” she said, adding, “Trust my father to come up with a sensible proposition.”

Mr Mancini turned out to be an Italian piano tuner turned farmer. He had married a young woman from the village of Ripley and settled in the area, where he had a small mixed farm. He told Darcy, his father had been a stall holder at the Covent Garden markets, and while he was content and happy with his lot, he'd always yearned to follow in his father's footsteps and grow flowers for the London market. With his family grown up and engaged in their own businesses, he had time and money on his hands, he said, and talked enthusiastically of growing and marketing roses, lilies, and baskets of lavender.

“But I have not enough land here,” he said. “All I need is an enclosed piece of fertile land, not too far from here,” and when Darcy proposed that he take a look at the land available at Oakleigh, the man was eager and willing to come at once. Indeed, it was with some difficulty that Darcy persuaded him to wait a day or two, until his aunt had agreed to the scheme.

They discussed terms, and both men appeared satisfied, and though nothing was concluded, there seemed to be a level of trust between them, which was reassuring. Mancini certainly did not lack the money or the energy needed for the enterprise, thought Darcy.

He did, however, press Darcy for a quick settlement of the matter.

“I cannot delay too long,” he said. “If the land is suitable, I must prepare the soil and set the bulbs for next Spring, before the ground is too hard. The roses too must be in well in time. There is much work to be done in the early Winter,” he explained, and Darcy assured him he would have an answer very soon.

As he left the village, he felt a sense of relief; if his aunt agreed, it seemed as though Mr Mancini may well help save Oakleigh from the machinations of his uncle Mr Robert Gardiner and his lawyer Mr Maxworthy.

Before going on to Oakleigh, Darcy called at Colley Dale, hoping to find Kathryn at home. He was told by Mrs O'Hare that she had gone in to Matlock with Elena to purchase supplies for the school. Disappointed, since he had not seen her in several days, he promised to call in later and was invited to stay to dinner.

At Oakleigh, he found his aunt Emily Courtney alone with her young son Jude, who was studying at the dinner table while his mother struggled with her accounts. When Darcy arrived, she closed the books and pushed them away and greeted him gladly, but he could feel the weariness in her. She was younger than her sister Caroline, but looked a good deal older, and he could not fail to see the lines of anxiety that marked her countenance.

Yet, she smiled and offered him tea and thanked him for his kindness in helping her pay out her labourers.

“It was good of you to advance the money, Darcy; we have been a little short of ready cash this month. There have been many unforeseen expenses and I am very grateful. I promise you will be repaid very soon,” she said quickly and without any embarrassment.

Determined to do his best to persuade her to reject Maxworthy's offer of a loan, Darcy made light of the matter of the money, but proceeded quickly to the subject of the letters he had discovered by chance in her desk. He revealed apologetically that he had read them, believing they were business matters, which may have required his attention in her absence.

“Believe me, Aunt, I did not realise until I had read both documents that it was a response to a request from you to my uncle Robert. I did not mean to pry into your affairs, and I do beg your pardon.”

He said nothing of his having taken the matter to his father and Mr Darcy, waiting for her response, expecting her to express some degree of surprise or disapproval even and wondering how he would get on thereafter.

But no such thing ensued.

Instead, when he looked at her, expecting a mild reproof, he saw tears in her eyes, and moments later, she rose, and taking young Jude with her, rushed from the room, leaving him alone, wondering what was to follow.

Would she return? Was her departure a sign of anger, and did she expect him to leave? he wondered.

He waited, and some ten minutes later, Emily returned to the room, having taken her son upstairs to continue his work there. She brought with her the two letters he had mentioned and placed them before him on the table.

In a voice that was still unsteady, she said, “Please read them again, Darcy. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you did discover them.”

He picked them up, and she continued, “I have sat here day after day, since Mr Courtney was taken to the hospital, filled with regret and shame—all because of those wretched letters.”

She looked miserable, and Darcy was very remorseful as she continued, “Now, I know you have seen them, at least I can talk about them to you. Darcy, ever since I understood what Robert had done, bringing in Mr Maxworthy, and I realised what I had become involved in, I have been so unhappy…” she said tearfully.

Darcy Gardiner was appalled. He could not comprehend it; his aunt was weeping, ashamed, and unhappy, yet it was she who had initiated the matter, by her appeal to her brother for help with the school. It was a perplexing situation, which he found difficult to unravel.

Yet, as she sobbed, he could not bear it and, rising from his chair, went to her side, trying to comfort her.

Seeing her obvious distress, he asked gently, “But, Aunt Emily, how was it you came to be in this situation?”

The explanation, given through a series of sad and often incoherent sentences, told him something of the anguish she had borne, mostly alone, since discovering the truth about her husband's health and the desperate state of their finances. The realisation that Reverend Courtney would have to retire and, without the stipend he received from the living at Kympton, his modest annuity and that the money they derived from the farm would be quite inadequate for their needs, and the acceptance that she was responsible for most of their forlorn circumstances, since in her enthusiasm for charitable causes, she had given away most of her patrimony, had been the genesis of her idea for a school.

“I had heard how well Charlotte Collins had done with her little school, and I felt it was a good thing to do. I could use a part of the house—we do not use even half the rooms downstairs—and I would work at home, being always here to care for Mr Courtney when he needed me. I knew it would require some money to be spent at the outset, which is why I appealed to Robert for help. I was not asking for charity—I hoped he would see it as an investment in something good and wholesome, a scheme that would earn us some money and help the community, too.

“Darcy, I did not expect him to send my letter off to his attorney, nor did I dream that they would offer to buy me out or take a mortgage on the property. Ever since Mr Maxworthy's letter arrived, all laid out so coldly, I have been so ashamed. I could see Mama's face—I have wondered how she would feel, would she ever forgive me?”

She broke down, and he put an arm around her shoulders. “Did you not think to ask my father or even Mr Darcy for help?” he asked, and she dried her eyes and shook her head.

“How could I? They have both done so much for us. Mr Darcy was my father's dearest friend and partner—I did not know how to face him; what would he think of me? Besides, it is to Mr Darcy and Cousin Lizzie I have turned whenever we had a problem, and they have always helped. This time, I thought it was my duty to find a solution myself.”

“And Papa?” he pressed her further, and she replied, “I did contemplate it, but Richard is very busy and always so kind. He has been so good about attending upon Mr Courtney at all hours, I had not the heart to trouble him with my financial problems. Besides, I know he is not very interested in matters of business. He was not keen to be involved in Father's company either. I thought Robert might be more interested, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Again she lapsed into a state of depression and seemed surprised when Darcy asked, “Have you yet communicated with Mr Maxworthy or my uncle Robert?”

Emily shook her head vigorously and said, “No, I have sat here scribbling, trying to write a dozen or more letters, and I have torn them all up. What could I say? I was afraid if I said bluntly, no, Robert would be angry with me, because I had asked for his help and then wasted his time…”

“But you do not intend to take up Maxworthy's offer of a loan, do you?”

“Certainly not; how would I ever repay it? Besides, should he foreclose, what would I tell your father and Mr Darcy? They would be appalled!”

“Indeed, they would, I am sure, but what about your school?” Darcy wished to discover how committed Emily was to the school, before suggesting that she should abandon the idea.

At this she looked truly unhappy and said, “I don't really know. I had hoped it would help me earn a little extra money, whilst also helping to improve the lives of some of the girls in the area; there are many young women from decent families, who get no education and no chance in life, because they are too poor to have a governess and there is no school for older girls here. They are most often condemned to work as servants or in those ghastly factories in the Midlands. I had hoped to teach them to speak and read and conduct themselves in society, so they may have some hope of advancement in life. But, if I cannot find the money, I cannot help them or myself.”

It was at this point that Darcy decided 'twere best to tell his aunt the plain truth about his visit.

“Aunt Emily, when I came here today, I came to tell you of something you can do, which will help you make some extra money, without the need for borrowing money or taking on more work yourself.”

Emily sat up quite straight and looked at him in disbelief.

“Darcy, I am too old to believe in fairy tales. I trust you are not teasing me with some silly investment scheme.”

“No indeed, I am not. Before I tell you more, tell me, has my father spoken to you of Reverend Courtney's condition and what needs to be done for him?”

“Yes, he has; Richard explained it all to me at the hospital,” and her voice fell to a whisper, even though there was no one to overhear her words. “I know he will need a great deal of care. I have said nothing to Jude or Jessica yet, but I do realise it is going to be a very difficult time until he is fit again.”

Darcy sighed, grateful for his father's timely intervention. That at least would make his own task easier.

“What is it you came to tell me?” Emily asked.

He began by showing her the cutting taken from the Matlock Reporter by Mr Darcy and then proceeded to explain the scheme proposed by Mr Mancini. “I have been to see him. He is genuinely eager to do business; I have ascertained what he is prepared to pay for a lease on a piece of enclosed farmland, with access to the road, to enable him to transport the flowers to the railway…”

“Flowers? Did you say he wishes to grow flowers on this piece of land?” she asked, interrupting his explanation.

“He does—he says his father sold flowers at Covent Garden. He wishes to grow them and send them to the markets in the cities.”

Emily listened, staring wide-eyed at her nephew, astonished not only at the simplicity of the scheme proposed, but also at the astute business sense he had demonstrated. Emily had never been particularly keen on business; service and charity had been her strengths.

When he had explained it all, she nodded, understanding what he had meant when he said it would require no money and no extra work on her part.

“Is it really possible? Will this gentleman, this Mr Mancini, pay me a monthly sum on the lease and spend his own money on the rest—repair the fences, prepare the soil; the land has been idle for many years and will need much work if he is to succeed—and will he hire the labour to do the work?” she asked, almost disbelieving.

“He will; he is himself a farmer—he runs a small mixed farm and market garden outside Ripley and to judge by his house, he must be a fairly successful farmer. I believe he will attend to everything and pay you for the privilege of doing so,” he said, and Emily could scarce believe it. Rising from her chair, she embraced her nephew and thanked him from the bottom of her heart.

“Darcy, I shall write tonight to refuse Mr Maxworthy's offer, and I shall take great delight in doing it,” she said with a smile that lightened her countenance, for the first time, since he had arrived at the house.

Agreeing that it was a sound decision and having arranged a convenient time to meet with Mr Mancini, he left to return to Colley Dale.

He should have been pleased, filled with a sense of achievement; instead he felt only fatigue and deep relief. It had been an exhausting afternoon.

At Colley Dale, Kathryn's family made him very welcome.

Mrs O'Hare protested that he had not dined with them in a fortnight, and Elena declared it was almost seven days since he had come to visit. Kathryn smiled but said nothing. Darcy, looking and feeling abashed, made his apologies. “It has been an extraordinarily busy week,” he said. “This is always a hectic time of year. As well, the new rector of Kympton, Frank Grantley, and his wife and baby have arrived to take up residence. And we had to help them settle in.”

Mrs O'Hare was interested. “I understand the new rector is your cousin, Mr Gardiner.”

“He is indeed; Frank is the younger son of Mr Darcy's sister Georgiana, who is married to Dr Francis Grantley, a very distinguished dean at Oxford. Frank's wife Amy is also my cousin, from the Gardiner side of the family; she is my aunt Caroline Fitzwilliam's daughter, and of course, Aunt Caroline is married to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is Mr Darcy's cousin!” he explained, and everyone thought this was very droll indeed.

“Oh dear, I wonder how you keep track of them!” exclaimed Mrs O'Hare.

As the rest of the family chatted and laughed over dinner, Darcy noticed that Kathryn seemed especially quiet and put it down to her being tired from her journey into Matlock that morning. It had been unusually warm, and the long walk could have been quite enervating. He recalled that she had once before suffered similarly, and said nothing, not wishing to embarrass her.

After dinner, Mr O'Hare stayed only a short while before retiring upstairs, having bid their guest good night, but not before saying, “If you see any of those Liberal politicians, Mr Gardiner, tell them I am bitterly disappointed that they are intent on spending so much time arguing about the Anglican church in Ireland—they have done nothing yet for the poor working men and women they promised to help. A pack of liars all of them; I don't believe a word they say. Yes, even Mr Gladstone—the people's William, they called him—he has let them down!”

There was no mistaking the anger and cynicism in his voice, and Darcy felt he was only echoing the views of many other people all over the land.

He knew there was a great deal of grumbling going on about the priorities of Mr Gladsone and his government, even among the Reformists who had supported him.

It was still another factor in his generally depressed state of mind, and not even Kathryn's presence could free him from its bondage. She was looking charming as usual, if a little pale, that evening, though he did notice, as they were alone together when Mr and Mrs O'Hare had left the room and Elena had gone to order tea, that she seemed a little unsettled, lacking her usual vivacity.

They had spoken quietly but not privately as they sat at the dinner table and yet they had not been alone together for almost a week.

When Darcy rose to take his leave, Kathryn accompanied him to the door as usual and stepped outside with him as he moved towards the vehicle which stood waiting for him. Turning to her, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, and then, in the only indication of intimacy she had had all evening, he kissed her lightly, said, “Good night, my dear Kathryn, you seem tired tonight; sleep well,” and was gone.

After he had left, there was still sufficient light in the sky to let her take a turn in the garden alone. Kathryn was feeling disconsolate and melancholy, quite unlike her usual self. She could not altogether account for her state of mind, but she knew it was related to Darcy Gardiner's present demeanour. She could not define it, yet she knew something was amiss. As she walked about in the darkening garden, with the scent of thyme and camomile crushed underfoot, she was unable to say what it was. She could not accuse him of discourteous conduct, nor even of neglect of her, for he was always particular in everything he did and said, to pay her and other members of her family every courtesy.

But neither could she forget how it had been some months ago, before they had announced their engagement. Darcy Gardiner had been one of the most exciting and spirited young gentlemen of her acquaintance. His mind and manners were remarkable; imbued with the charm and energy of an intelligent man, with a keen interest in ideas, he had the skill to articulate them and the will to pursue them, unlike anyone she had known before.

When she had become aware of his interest in her, she had pulled back a little, until she was certain of his determination, and that was never in doubt when he was wooing her with ardour and spirit. She recalled the warmth of his words, the tenderness of his concern when she had been in some danger from Bellamy, and remembered even now, with pleasure, how passionately he had claimed his right to protect her when she had run away to stay with Mrs Ellis in Yorkshire. Then she'd never had cause to doubt the depth of his love.

Yet, in the past few weeks, things had seemed to change. While there was neither indifference nor coldness, she felt he was often pre-occupied and, sadly, did not seem to want to share his concerns with her, as she had hoped he would. When they used to talk together as mere friends, they'd found such a remarkable coincidence of views and ideals, and she had imagined how easily they might share their thoughts and match their hopes. She had hoped for this above all else.

A sensible and practical young woman, Kathryn did not expect that the young man she was engaged to would spend all day, every day, at her side. She was well aware that he had his duties as manager of the Pemberley estate and other family obligations, as did she, with the school and at home.

However, seeing him that evening after several days' absence, she had hoped for a warmer, more affectionate encounter, and when, even as they had been quite pointedly left alone in the sitting room, he had not come to her as he used to, she was left feeling deeply saddened.

Had he told her the cause of his changed mood, explained that he had been busy, distracted by a matter of business or some family problem, she would have understood. That she could have borne—not this.

She feared, unreasonably, that he may have had second thoughts about their engagement or, worse, begun to doubt her word. It was not impossible, she thought, a young man with ambition and the possibility of a seat in Parliament may well be wary of making a marriage that might bring embarrassment later in life. Her brief association with Hartley-Brown may have the potential to damage him and ruin their chances of happiness. Could it be that his family, having learned in some way of her past foolhardiness, was even now persuading him to abandon her? Tormented by a sense of guilt, Kathryn could not hold back the tears. Glad of the gathering dusk, she remained in the garden awhile longer.

Hearing her mother and Elena come back into the sitting room, she went indoors. Hoping they had not noticed her discomposure, she claimed she had a headache, said good night, and went up to bed.

Quite unaware of Kathryn's injured feelings, Darcy returned to Camden Park, where he reported to his parents that Emily would accept Mr Mancini's offer and would meet him very soon to sign an agreement. There were congratulations and much praise for him from both Richard and Cassy. They were justifiably proud of their son, who had demonstrated both compassion—a rare enough commodity—as well as sound common sense in dealing with the matter of Emily's financial problems.

He told them that he had given her his word, that he would be there to advise and assist her whenever the need arose, which, he said, seemed to give her some comfort.

Cassy, who knew how easily Emily was moved, understood how reassuring his words would have been to her.

When Darcy went to bed that night, he was feeling a good deal better than he had felt in a very long time, despite the long and tiring day.