The Women of Pemberley Read online

  “Do you mean his political activities?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Yes, and also his … I suppose you might call them his social activities,” said Jonathan, more ill at ease than ever.

  “And what were these activities?” asked Elizabeth.

  Jonathan shook his head, “Oh Aunt Lizzie, I don’t know how much I should tell you. You see, I have not said a word to Mama and Papa. I have spoken with Colonel Fitzwilliam because of his contacts in Westminster and Whitehall. I really did not know what else to do. It was Caroline’s idea that we meet and discuss it with you and Mr Darcy before my parents are told.”

  Elizabeth was completely bewildered, “Jonathan, what is it you have heard about David Wilson that you cannot reveal to your mother and father? What has he done?”

  Jonathan was silent for several minutes, during which time a servant brought in the tea, and Elizabeth rose and went over to the window, looking out on the west lawn.

  There was some weak sunlight but very little warmth out there, and Elizabeth shivered involuntarily. Jonathan rose and followed her. “Aunt Lizzie, you must give me your word that nothing I say will reach my mother or Emma—at least not until we have decided on some plan,” he said, and it seemed to her there was a new serious tone to his voice.

  Elizabeth agreed, and they returned to their tea.

  Jonathan related as briefly and precisely as possible a tale of deceit and betrayal that left Elizabeth incredulous. When she had urged her nephew to speak openly, she had certainly no expectation of hearing the kind of information that Jonathan was to place before her. First, regarding his brother-in-law’s political activities, it seemed he had defected to the Conservatives and was now actively working against the Reformist cause. “When he did not contribute to the debates on Factory Inspections and the Ten-Hour Day, we had our suspicions. He had been remiss about certain votes in the House and was often seen fraternising with some of the old Tories,” Jonathan explained.

  “Is that unusual for him?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No, no it is not, which is why I for one did not take the rumours seriously.”

  “What rumours?”

  “The rumours that he was going over to the Tories,” he replied.

  “And has he?” asked Elizabeth.

  Jonathan nodded, “Yes, he has. He deliberately absented himself from the vital vote for the Ten-Hour Day and has declared that he will not support the Public Health Act.”

  Elizabeth was amazed but wondered at the level of Jonathan’s outrage.

  “Surely the government does not need his vote?”

  “That, my dear aunt, is not the point at issue,” he explained patiently. “Wilson has been nurtured and given his chance to enter Parliament by the Reform Group and the Whigs. To betray them now and remain in the Parliament is odious and totally dishonourable.”

  Elizabeth agreed. “Yes, but why must this information be kept from Bingley and Jane? I have no doubt your father would be outraged, but David Wilson would not be the first member to change sides and he certainly will not be the last,” she said.

  “There is more, Aunt Lizzie and I do not believe you will be as sanguine about the rest of it,” said Jonathan, putting down his cup and rising as the servant returned to stoke up the fire.

  It was clear to Elizabeth that Jonathan was seeking some privacy, and, waiting until the footman had left with the tea tray, she closed the door.

  Her nephew had by now begun to look a good deal more serious. “The rest concerns David’s private activities,” he said and still seemed to speak reluctantly, when a carriage was heard coming up the drive.

  Elizabeth went to the window and he followed her. The carriage belonged to the Gardiners, but the occupant was not one of them.

  “Good God, it’s Amelia-Jane,” he exclaimed. “I thought she was with Aunt Gardiner,” he said as they went out into the hall.

  Amelia-Jane had alighted and was quickly ushered indoors. Seeing her husband with Elizabeth, she was clearly pleased. “Jonathan, I am so glad you are here. I’ve come directly from Matlock, where Becky Tate has told me all about David Wilson’s disgraceful behaviour, and I was determined that Aunt Lizzie should know…”

  She was hushed and almost dragged into the morning room by her husband, “Amelia, dearest, you must not talk about it so openly.”

  “Why ever not?” she asked, “I believe everyone in London knows about it except poor Emma.”

  Elizabeth had by now realised that something much worse than she had anticipated was about to be revealed, and she experienced a cold, unpleasant feeling totally unrelated to the wintry weather.

  This time it was Amelia who related the story, in far more colourful terms than her husband would have used accompanied by a high degree of indignation.

  Since his defection to the Tories, David Wilson had been the subject of investigation by two journalists employed by Anthony Tate’s newspapers. Ordered to discover the motivation or at least the reason for his defection, they had spent a good deal of time in London and their inquiries had turned up some quite startling information. Amelia-Jane did not mince her words when she gave her aunt the news. “Aunt Lizzie, David Wilson has not only betrayed his colleagues in Parliament; he has consistently deceived his family and betrayed his wife,” she went on.

  As she related the information that she had gained from Rebecca Tate, who now managed the newspaper empire that her husband was building, Amelia-Jane added her own comments.

  “I have never liked David Wilson; earlier in our acquaintance he did try to insinuate himself into the good graces of my family, and I would have none of it,” she declared, having explained that the information uncovered by the Tate’s investigators was sufficient to destroy the man’s political career and his marriage. “He is not only a turncoat and an adulterer, but he has got himself so deep in debt through gambling and high living that he seems beholden to a group of villains who could ruin him if he does not do as they demand. He is corrupt and disreputable, Aunt Lizzie. Clearly, neither his mother nor Emma would be aware of his conduct or they would not tolerate him.”

  “I am astonished that his brother, James, who we met here a few weeks ago, has not discovered this,” said Elizabeth, but Jonathan intervened to suggest that it was quite likely James, whose integrity and honour were unquestioned, may have been spared the knowledge because most of his colleagues were reluctant to embarrass him with gossip about his dissolute younger brother.

  “I know of no one who has a bad word to say of James Wilson, and I would venture to suggest that most members would have deliberately avoided the subject of David’s profligacy rather than cause him pain and embarrassment,” he said.

  Amelia agreed with her husband. “Becky tells me that the two men who investigated David’s activities heard not a single accusation against his brother or any other member of the family. His father and uncle were highly respected, and it seems Mr James Wilson is not only well regarded at Westminster; he has, since taking over management of his father’s affairs, acquired a reputation as a fair and decent businessman. I cannot believe that he will tolerate the type of impropriety and wild behaviour that David has indulged in, should he be told of it.”

  Elizabeth realised that they had now reached the very nub of the problem. “Is he to be told?” she asked. “Is this what the dinner at Fitzwilliams’ is about?”

  Jonathan and Amelia admitted that they needed Mr Darcy’s advice. “Fitzwilliam will not move without consulting Mr Darcy—especially because of the particular closeness and affection that exists between him and my father,” said Jonathan, adding, “I cannot imagine how they will take this news. Papa will be most upset—it was through his long association with the Wilson family that Emma came to know David Wilson. I know he will blame himself.”

  Elizabeth was outraged. “That would be utterly unfair,” she protested. “Your father could ne
ver have imagined that David Wilson, the son of respectable parents, the brother of an honourable man, could turn out this way.”

  But Jonathan knew how hard his father would take the news of David Wilson’s despicable behaviour—especially the effect it would have on Emma and her two daughters.

  The dinner at Fitzwilliam’s house was to provide an opportunity for them to discuss the situation and plan some action with the benefit of Mr Darcy’s wise counsel. Darcy, more than any other member of the family, had become their source of reasoned and sensible advice. They looked to him whenever they were unsure of their own judgement.

  Elizabeth agreed to acquaint him with the information they had given her and promised that, unless some more pressing problem emerged to demand their attention, they would meet at the Fitzwilliams’ the following evening.

  After they had gone, Elizabeth sat alone, unable to leave her chair for quite a while, so acutely painful were her reactions to the news she had received. She was grateful to Jane for having at least given her some hint of Emma’s unhappiness, but nothing her sister had said could have prepared her for the appalling tale of betrayal that she had just heard. Jenny came in search of her mistress and was surprised to find her sitting before a dying fire. When she offered to bring her more tea and stoke up the fire, Elizabeth thanked her but preferred to retire upstairs.

  Her depression worsened as she thought not only of Emma’s situation, now made considerably worse by the new revelations, but of her sister and brother-in-law. Jane’s tender heart would surely be devastated, and Bingley—whose devotion to his wife was matched only by his love of his daughters—how, she wondered, would he cope with Emma’s sorrow as well as the public disgrace that must surely follow?

  The fact that the investigation had been carried out by two journalists only served to increase the threat of exposure and added to her unease. Almost sick with worry, Elizabeth asked for a pot of tea to be brought up and stayed in her room, where Darcy, returning earlier than expected, found her in a state of some anxiety.

  Aware that something was amiss, he was at her side instantly. “Elizabeth, what is it? Jenny says Jonathan and Amelia were here this morning. What did they want? Is someone ill?” He was most concerned to discover the cause of her distress.

  Elizabeth would have liked to pour out the whole sorry story, but realising her husband was tired from his journey, she tried to reassure him and said it could wait until after dinner.

  Only after Julian had gone to bed and they were alone did she tell him everything—including the early hints she had had from Jane.

  Darcy listened like a man who had been turned to stone. Except to ask occasional questions, he let her tell the tale uninterrupted. Only the darkening expression on his face betrayed his feelings of consternation and outrage. Elizabeth was reminded of his reaction on hearing the awful news of Lydia’s elopement with Wickham. She recalled his grim countenance as he had heard the wretched story.

  For his part, Darcy had never felt really easy about David Wilson and, despite the obvious attractions of the match and the links it provided with an established, professional family, he had tried to warn Bingley when the news of Emma’s engagement had taken them all by surprise.

  His contacts in London had not given him very encouraging reports of young Wilson, though they had spoken very highly of his father and brother James. Stories of high living and big spending were legion, and no one would vouch for his credit. It had been all too reminiscent of another young man of his acquaintance, one whose handsome face and pleasing manner had helped him win the hearts and confidence of an inordinate number of people, resulting in much heartache and unpleasantness.

  He had hoped that Bingley with his long association with the Wilsons would be better placed to counsel Emma against a hasty marriage. But Charles Bingley, it seemed, was not of a mind to cross his dearest daughter, who was very much in love. The marriage had gone ahead, and since he had heard nothing untoward from either his friend or his wife, Darcy had begun to hope that perhaps marriage to the beautiful Emma Bingley might have put an end to Mr Wilson’s transgressions.

  Elizabeth had expected him to be reluctant to believe the story she related, demanding evidence of the supposed misdemeanours. But in fact, it seemed almost as if he half expected it.

  “Darcy, have you known of this?” she asked, wishing to discover the extent of his knowledge.

  “No, I had no idea things were this bad, though I confess that before they were married, I did hear tales of gambling and high living, which concerned me sufficiently to warrant a word in Bingley’s ear.”

  “And how did he respond? Was he concerned?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Not as much as I had hoped he would be. He was unwilling to upset Emma, who you will recall was deeply in love at the time. It was generally regarded as an excellent match and with my previous experience in these matters, I don’t think Bingley took me seriously,” he replied, acknowledging his failure to influence his friend.

  Elizabeth sighed, “Poor Emma. If only someone had warned her, it might have spared her a good deal of heartache.”

  Darcy disagreed, “Lizzie, is it likely that Emma, at nineteen, with her head full of dreams, would listen to some gossip about the man she was in love with? Quite obviously, her father did not think so. I offered him the names of my informants, but he would have no truck with them. He was not about to break his daughter’s heart with some wild rumour.”

  “Was that why you did not tell me about your reservations?” she asked. “Did you fear that I would tell Jane, when you knew that Bingley had already dismissed them?”

  He admitted that he had not thought it would do any good at all. “Besides, my dear,” he explained, “You and I had rather more than we could cope with at the time. We had just returned from Italy with Emily still grieving for Paul; we were struggling to endure our own loss of William. It was no time to burden you with gossip that may or may not have been true.”

  ***

  The following day, the party that gathered at the Fitzwilliams’ was sober and cheerless. Christmas was a mere four weeks away, but no one even mentioned it. Not even the good news from Jonathan that the government was confident of getting the numbers for the passage of the Public Health Bill in the New Year raised their spirits.

  The Tates arrived shortly afterwards, and Rebecca was bursting to give them news of the big literary sensation of the year—that the author of Jane Eyre, Currer Bell, was in fact a young woman from Yorkshire, Charlotte Brontë. Even this brought only a brief respite from the general gloom.

  Initially, everyone seemed reluctant to bring up the subject until Rebecca Tate decided it was about time and spoke up. Perhaps she felt some responsibility, since the information had been uncovered by their investigation of Mr David Wilson.

  “Mrs Darcy, is it your opinion that Mr and Mrs Bingley should be told of this information? The reason I ask is that, next to Jonathan, you are Emma’s closest relation here, and none of us would wish to do anything without your advice and Mr Darcy’s, of course. Do you suppose we would be acting correctly were we to expose Mr Wilson’s activities, or would that be too harsh?” she asked.

  As if in a dream, Elizabeth heard Rebecca’s words and recalled her own conversation with Jane many years ago, when, having been told by Mr Darcy of Wickham’s infamous conduct, she and her sister had decided that ’twere best to say nothing about it to their family and friends. It was a decision they had made after much thought and only with the best of intentions, yet how much had it been regretted when news broke of Lydia’s elopement with Wickham.

  Only two people in the world knew the extent of her own sorrow at that lapse—Mr Darcy and Jane. Darcy had blamed himself for not speaking out to expose Wickham, who alone had profited from the concealment afforded him.

  Now, with Darcy beside her, she steeled herself and, even though she knew how much it would hur
t her sister, said, “There is no question that Jane and Bingley must be told. They have a right to know. So has Emma, but I believe her parents will have to make that decision. Our clear duty is to inform them without delay.”

  Jonathan agreed immediately.

  Darcy intervened to ask how reliable the information was. Did the journalists have any evidence?

  Anthony Tate, who had hitherto remained silent, asserted that they were two of his best men. They had not been satisfied with the gossip, of which there was plenty, but had followed up the stories, and their investigations had led them to the house in Chelsea where the woman, who was supposedly David Wilson’s mistress, kept an illegal gaming house that was patronised by several so-called “gentlemen” of London society. They had seen Wilson arrive and leave quite openly on many occasions. Indeed, they had been amazed at how brazen he seemed about it. The address of this establishment, said Mr Tate, was available, confidentially, to anyone who wished to verify their story. The shocked silence around the room was proof of the outrage felt by them all.

  Finally, Fitzwilliam spoke. “Darcy, if you agree, I intend to go to London and contact an old friend—a Parliamentary colleague from the old days—and if I can confirm that Wilson has, in fact, defected to the Tories, Anthony is prepared to publish this information. We believe he deserves to be exposed.”

  Elizabeth gasped at the thought of what it would do to Emma, but she had to agree with Caroline, who said, “He is a member of Parliament, who is immoral in both his private and public life. He is a law-maker who is breaking the law with impunity. He has betrayed his party and the people who elected him. I can see no alternative.”

  “Unless we were to give him an ultimatum, warn him of imminent exposure,” said Jonathan, who thought it might be fairer to do so.

  After some discussion it was decided that Darcy and Elizabeth would tell the Bingleys of their son-in-law’s predicament while Jonathan, Anthony Tate, and Fitzwilliam would travel to London to confront Wilson himself and hear his story, prior to any further action.