Virtue and Vanity: Continuing Story of Desire and Duty (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Arriving in the front parlor of his ancestral estate, Thomas exclaimed, “It is good to be home at Staley Hall. Four years away has been too long.”

Georgiana declared, “I have missed our garden and roses.” Slipping her arm through her husband’s, she added, “I have grown to love Staley Hall even more than Pemberley.”

Edgar turned to Lady Staley, “Mother, may I go up to the playroom?” He barely waited for her nod of ascent before dashing up the stairs.

Anna grabbed Sarah’s hand and exclaimed, “Let us go see if my room is still the same.”

“I do not think anyone has redecorated since we left,” Sarah said as she attempted to keep up with her young charge.

The little girl skipped to a small table, with two chairs, placed in front of a tall window. She sat in one of the chairs and her perpetual smile drooped a bit.

“What is the matter?” asked Sarah. “Are you not feeling well, Anna?”

“I feel fine,” she said. Looking content, she asked, “Do you remember the private tea parties we had?”

Sarah returned the child’s smile, “Yes.” Carefully lowering
herself
into one of the tiny chairs she added, “I think this table set has shrunk while we were gone.”

Anna smiled fully now. “Indeed! That is just what I thought.”

“On our return trip home, your mother suggested that we might need to purchase a few new furnishings for your room.”

“Did she? That would be grand.”

Sarah thought, “This dear child always seemed surprised that anyone, even her loving parents, would want to buy things for her.”

Lovingly, Anna stroked the small table top. “If we buy a larger table set, may we keep this one in the playroom?”

“Of course, but is there a special reason you wish to keep it close by? We could always store it in the attic.”

“The attic would be all right. I think it would be nice to have if a very young girl should visit.”

Sarah smiled at the girl’s thoughtfulness. “Indeed, that would make a young girl feel at home.” Turning to leave Sarah said, “I will be across the hall, in my room, if you need me for anything.”

After dinner that evening, Sir Thomas sat back in his oversized chair and lit his pipe as he spoke to Georgiana. “Oh, to be a gentleman farmer again. . . . We will need to repair the estate road and begin worrying about crops and weather more than affairs of state.”

“Yes. Now, no more worry
about a stream of Parisian socialites
.”

At that moment, Mr. Hand entered the room. “Good evening, sir.”

“Hello, Mr. Hand. We have received the news of your marriage to the good woman, Miss Reston. I am sorry Lady Staley and I
were
unable to get home soon enough to see the marriage of our foreman.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“From what I see, you have done an excellent job of maintaining our estate during our absence. May we visit your cottage tomorrow and bring our wedding gift then?”

“Yes,
sir.
. . would you be kind enough to bring Miss Sarah Bingley along, also? The Mrs. and I wish to ask her something.”

Sir Thomas replied, “We will extend your invitation.”

As Mr. Hand was leaving, a servant entered and announced, “Miss Darcy to visit.”

“Let her come in,” Georgiana replied. “What were we saying about not having a stream of visitors?”

“Ma’am and Sir,” she curtseyed as she entered. “I am delighted to have you in residence once again. I have sorely missed my forays to your house. I would like to talk, but I came to speak with Miss Sarah. Is she in?”

“She is upstairs in her sitting room.”

Quickly, Maria made her way to the small suite of rooms. Sarah was pleasantly surprised to see her guest.

Maria came in and sat down and talked of meaningless things for a few moments. Then, twisting her handkerchief in her hand, she said shyly, “I suppose you wonder at the true reason for my visit.”

“I always enjoy chatting with you about any subject.”

Looking down at her shoes, Maria softly said, “I wish to ask you about a young gentleman who is pursuing me.”

“Oh?”

“Mr. James Johnson, a respectable and rich young farmer has begun to pay attention to me.”

“How would you have me advise you?”

“Oh, Sarah,” she blurted. “I am beginning to believe myself simpleminded. I have none of your good sense.”

They were quiet for a moment and Sarah asked, “As you probably realize, I do not know Mr. Johnson.”

“Do you not see? While he is a gentleman, he is so far below my status that I wish he would stop paying attention to me. I have always wanted men to be attentive, but not to become serious.” She continued on, “Oh, he is a good sort of man; however, I have become aware of my ignorance lately and would not only like to marry a gentleman, but an intelligent and clever one to help make up for my own deficiency. Mr. Johnson is neither wise nor clever.”

“Then why ask me what to do? I am not married, nor have I had a good deal of experience in warding off ardent admirers.”

“You are the most intelligent woman I know.” Maria said. “Indeed, you write novels.”

“Characters in a novel can be manipulated at will; however, living creatures are not so pliable. Perhaps you should talk with your mother.”

“She might think me silly.”

“If you do not wish to talk to your mother, Aunt Georgiana is a good listener.”

“How could I ask her?” Maria said. “If it were not for my playing matchmaker, she and Sir Thomas might never have gotten together.”

Here they paused for a few moments and Sarah finally said, “What is it you wish from me?”

“How can I tell Mr. Johnson to leave me alone?”

“Why not say it in a forthright manner?

“I do not wish to hurt his feelings.”

“That is kind of you. However, sometimes untarnished truth, told in a sympathetic tone, is the gentlest approach of all.”

“Why?”

“I believe we must discover truth and then adjust ourselves to it. I find the sooner I try to do this, the happier I am.”

They were then quiet again momentarily. This time Maria broke the silence. In an awed voice she said, “You deserve a very wise husband.” Her face glowed as she added, “You would be the perfect match for my brother Andrew. He is the wisest man I know, apart from my father.”

Sarah was taken aback for a moment and then replied in a strained manner, “While I greatly esteem your brother, I am afraid such a notion is impossible.” With a forced smile, she added, “Maria, you are beginning to remind me of Madame Duval.”

Maria waited a moment, studying Sarah. “Mother says I should not pry into other people’s affairs, so I will not ask you further about Andrew. . . . For myself, I need an intelligent and wise gentleman. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I am afraid not. In my absence, I have forgotten all the gentlemen in the neighborhood; but, I promise to keep my eyes open and I will let you know if someone seems appropriate.”

“That is exactly what I wished for,” Maria said delightedly. “In two weeks, there is to be a ball at Pemberley. Come and peruse the gentlemen then.”

“On your behalf, I shall do my best.”

The next morning, the
Staleys
and Sarah set out for the foreman’s cottage a quarter of a mile from Staley Hall. Sarah enjoyed the crisp early October day with the brightly colored leaves.

As they approached the cottage, she noticed six small trees with their root-balls wrapped with cloth, ready for planting. When the newlyweds opened their door, the visitors were ushered in amidst dozens of roses festooning the sitting room.

Lady Staley exclaimed, “I love roses. Where have you found all of these?”

Mr. Hand replied, “I guess you wouldn’t know. While you were gone, Mr. Andrew Darcy resumed his grandfather’s tradition of sending fruit trees and roses to every newly married couple in the parish. Indeed, my father told me that Grandfather Darcy was responsible for most of the fruit trees in the area.”

“How lovely,” Sarah exclaimed to Mrs. Hand as Mr. Hand continued, “Mr. Andrew Darcy is becoming quite a favorite around these parts. What a fine young man–just as dependable as his father. While you were gone, he often came to see if he could help in any way. Some of the new species you see in the flower beds were given to us from the Darcy nursery; looking at Lady Staley, he said, “You must be proud to have him as your nephew.”

“Indeed,” was Lady Staley’s
reply.

Sarah found herself listening quite intently to the discussion. Why did Andrew Darcy spark an interest in her that no other man did? Oh well, she thought, he is unobtainable to me.

As they sat down to tea, Mrs. Hand, a handsome young woman about Sarah’s age spoke up, “Miss Sarah, my husband and I were wondering if you would help us start a Sunday
School
. Most of the worker’s families on our estate have become interested in Methodism. As you know, the purpose of such a school is to teach the children to read and write. The circuit Methodist minister encourages literacy so the children can read the Bible and other helpful books.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I should,” was Sarah’s first reply.

She then looked at Sir Thomas, who said, “Sarah, Mr. Hand has already spoken to me about this. While Mrs. Staley and
myself
continue to attend the parish church, I have also had
and
interest in Methodism. They are doing a fine job uplifting the poorer folk – many of whom do not feel comfortable with the higher classes who attend the Anglican
communion
. It is your choice, of course, but we would support your effort and time in doing so.”

Eight-year-old Anna piped up, “Can I help you, Miss Sarah?”

“Of course, you are an excellent
reader.
. . well, it appears I have already made a decision – let us give it a try.”

The following Sunday morning, Sarah and Anna returned to the foreman’s cottage; when the door was opened, more than a dozen eager children’s faces were focused on her entrance. Sarah stepped inside with Anna. Mrs. Hand stepped forward to welcome Sarah and said, “Welcome class. This is Miss Sarah Bingley, who is going to teach us how to read and write.”

“Thank you. I brought along my charge, Miss Anna Staley, to help. She is an excellent reader.”

Mrs. Hand said, “No doubt you notice several mothers and fathers present. They, along with
myself
, would also like to read and write. May we also join the class?”

Sarah was unprepared for this. She had anticipated a handful of children. Not only was the class larger than she’d planned for; now they wanted her to teach adults. She wanted to turn and leave. However, as she surveyed the faces of the adults present, she saw the same eagerness as in the children and her heart melted. “Why, of course,” was her reply. “We will start off by learning the letters of the alphabet.”

Chapter Eighteen

A few days later, a late evening knock at the door of Staley Hall preceded Mr. Darcy’s entrance into the parlor, where the adult
Staleys
and Sarah Bingley were sitting.

Mr. Darcy’s face showed grave concern as he spoke, “There has been a riot at
Westbrook  estate
. At least one building has been set afire; and, for all we know, the remaining estate may be burning as we speak.” Continuing to pace nervously, he added, “Our information estimates as many as fifty men may be involved.”

Sir Thomas motioned him to sit down, “We will help in any way we can. What can we do?”

“I would have you go to speak with the group of men. Perhaps you can reason with them and get them to desist.”

Georgiana then spoke with alarm, “Brother. You are the most respected man in the county. Would they not listen to you?”

“Unfortunately, I think not. As magistrate, I have had to sentence several of the ring leaders for past misdeeds. I fear my presence may inflame them.”

Sir Thomas turned to his wife, “A magistrate is helpless without a militia, and we have none in Derbyshire now. If your brother shows his face, he may be lynched.” He gently grasped Georgiana’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly as he turned back to Mr. Darcy, “Are any of the men of Pemberley involved?”

“No, but they are afraid of what the mob may do. The workers of Pemberley are loyal to us, but we can only muster, at the most, twelve men.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I doubt any of the rioters are angry with Pemberley Hall. This difficulty has been brewing while you have been absent in France. There have been land disputes involving the
Westbrooks
. With a shortage of arable land, and the sometimes arrogant attitude of the
Westbrooks
, it has boiled over. I have tried to reason with the present Earl of Westbrook, but he is both dogmatic and senseless.”

“What plan do you have?”

“We will maintain a defensive position at the bridge of Pemberley. If we fail, Staley Hall may be next in line.” He glanced quickly at Georgiana as if to ascertain if this talk were too straightforward for her. Seeing
her
resigned, but trusting expression, he continued, “If the fighting begins, Elizabeth plans to take the women servants to Becker’s Point, halfway between our estates. I suggest Georgiana do the same with the Staley Hall servants.” Looking at Georgiana now, he asked, “Do you know the way to Becker’s point?”

She smiled briefly at Thomas, “Indeed. If I were blind, my heart could still lead me to it.”

“Good,” Fitzwilliam continued as he headed out the door, “Elizabeth will send a runner if it becomes necessary.”

Thomas and Georgiana looked at each other as she asked, “Are you sure you should go?”

Thomas stood and paced slowly, “My unsought after calling appears to be diplomacy. To avoid such service would be cowardly.” Sitting beside Georgiana, he took her hand once again, “If the warning comes, take Edgar and Anna to Becker’s Point and enough money to make it to the Darcy home in London.” Looking at Sarah, he added, “Perhaps you could help by preparing a small satchel of clothing and such for the children and yourself, should evacuation become necessary.”

Quietly, but firmly, Sarah said, “I would be of more use if I came with you to assist any of the injured. I am sure Lady Staley can manage the children.”

Sir Thomas looked at Georgiana for her response and then back to Sarah. “I value your skill as a nurse. A riot is certainly no place for a lady; but, neither was
gaol
a proper place. You were invaluable then, I am sure you will also be helpful tonight. You must agree to stay back in the carriage and, if things get out of control, go directly to Becker’s Point.”

“Yes, Sir Thomas.” Sarah smiled calmly. “I have a small bag of supplies readied for emergencies.  I shall retrieve them and my cloak and meet you out front in a moment.”

As she stood to leave the room, Sarah heard Thomas say, “That girl has a real gift for healing. Did you see how calm she is?”

Sir Thomas was waiting out front by the carriage as Sarah exited the house. “Reverend Henry Westbrook and his son, Paul, are waiting for us at the rectory.

Reverend Henry Westbrook was a longtime close friend of Sir Thomas and a brother to the current Earl. While not in the immediate line of succession, since the Earl had a son, he had an abiding interest in his family home. As a popular parson, he probably had little to risk in going with Sir Thomas. His adopted son, Paul, was seven and twenty, college-educated at Cambridge and now recently out of the army to prepare for the ministry.

As the carriage with Sir Thomas and Sarah Bingley stopped at the rectory, Sarah observed Paul to be a tall and handsome man as he entered the carriage. His father calmly climbed into the carriage and shook Sir Thomas’ hand with all the meaning an English handshake gives. While little emotion appeared evident, Sarah knew the two older men to be loyal, long-time friends.”

“In the thick of it again, eh, Thomas?”

“I cannot seem to avoid it. Why are you going? You certainly could remain at the parsonage.”

“It is my family home, you remember; besides, many of the men know that I have long been on their side in the dispute.”

Sir Thomas turned to Paul, “And what is your interest?”

“I came to see to the safety of my father. As a former regimental officer, I may know some of the men.”

“Good,” was Thomas’
reply.

Both of the
Westbrooks
looked at Sarah, as though just now noticing she
were
in the carriage. “Miss Sarah,” the Reverend began, “I must confess, I am quite surprised to count you amongst our numbers. Are we taking you to Pemberley to help Elizabeth?”

Sarah could not help but note the hint of hopefulness in his voice. “No sir,” she replied with a slight smile. “I shall be going with you to the riot.”

Sir Thomas quickly interrupted, “Sarah is a gifted nurse. She insisted on coming in case she could be of help. However, since it is no place for a lady, she agreed to remain in the carriage unless she is needed.” Turning to Paul, he asked, “Since you have had military experience, would you remain with Sarah and see to her safety?”

“It would be my honor,” the young man replied.

“Keep a close watch on the rioters as I talk with them. If you sense things are getting out of hand, take off immediately. Sarah knows where the family is to meet.”

“But,
sir,
how would you and my father retreat if needed?”

“We will watch out for each other. Your duty is to Miss Sarah.”

“Yes, sir.
But, if flight is necessary, I will return as soon as I have deposited my charge in a safe place.”

Sarah wished she could demand to stay no matter what. After all, if things turned ugly, they would truly need her assistance. However, she knew that Sir Thomas would never agree to allow her to place herself in jeopardy. So she sank back into a corner of the carriage, as though hoping they would forget she was there, while the men discussed the best way to approach the mob.

As the group approached the Westbrook estate, a thick odor of smoke began enveloping the carriage. A cacophony of sounds assailed them in growing strength as they drew close--men shouting, a hammer banging, the harsh crackle and pop noises of a building on fire.

Sarah found herself praying earnestly, as she was sure her three increasingly somber companions were doing. The carriage stopped about 100 feet from the burning stable. The glow of the fire cast an eerie pall on the faces of Thomas and Mr. Westbrook as they exited the carriage. Thomas quickly instructed the driver to turn the carriage around and beat a hasty retreat if Mr. Paul Westbrook were to give the signal.

As the former-ambassador and the rector approached the mass of men milling about the stable yard, Paul stepped down and stood outside the carriage. Sarah moved to the other seat, facing the stable, so she could see the events. Perhaps it was not ladylike, but she wanted to know what was happening.

There appeared to be about four dozen men, gathering into a tighter group as the two negotiators approached. Sarah could see a man standing on top of an overturned farm wagon, about twenty yards away. She could hear him shouting, “We need to control ourselves and the way we make our demands or the militia will intervene.”

“Burn ‘
em
,” someone in the crowd shouted.

The apparent leader saw Sir Thomas and Reverend Westbrook approach. He shouted, “Sir Thomas Staley is here!”

Sarah heard many things shouted in response. Fortunately, she did not understand all their words, but she heard voices call out, “We don’t need
no
blueblood.” “Let him speak.” “Lynch him.” “Let him have his say.”

The voices began to settle down as Sarah realized the extreme tension of the mob.
             

Sir Thomas stepped on top of the wagon, while the elder Mr. Westbrook stood behind. Thomas surveyed the crowd calmly for several moments and the group quieted. Then he began in a loud voice, “Ye men of Derbyshire and veterans of Waterloo. . . .”

A voice piped up, “What does a gentleman like you know about ‘loo?”

Another shouted, “He’s a veteran, with a wound to prove it,
ya
boob.”

Laughing at this, the atmosphere became much less tense and more attentive to Sir Thomas as he continued, “You men have legitimate grievances. I am here to listen and represent your concerns to the king, if need be. Violence and arson will not get you what you want. If you persist, the militia will come and trade your freedom for
gaol
or worse.”

“The
Westbrooks
are heavy on the land and village,” someone cried out.

“A Westbrook family member is here, ready to listen to you.” The group whooped it up, until they realized it was “only” Mr. Henry Westbrook.

“Why’d you bring the good parson by? We have a dispute with his worthless older brother, not him.”

“He promises to urge his family to settle the dispute in the proper way. He will listen to the grievances you have and try to arrange an agreement.”

Here a favorable shout went up. “The parson is right good at
speakin
’.”

Sir Thomas continued, “I, too, pledge
to  represent
your interests--but only on the condition that you disband and promise not to form an unruly mob again.”

With this last statement, Thomas jumped off the wagon to shake hands and to speak to the men one by one. He almost appeared to be running for parliament, though most of the men could not vote. The tenseness disappeared and the crowd began to melt away. After the last man left, Sir Thomas and Mr. Westbrook came over to the carriage and told the waiting twosome that they were going to inspect the damage.

Mr. Paul Westbrook climbed back into the carriage and said, “I am glad this mob has been dispersed. I hope the district can regain its calm.”

“I always thought of Derbyshire as a peaceful retreat. This episode took me quite by surprise.”

“I am sure it did,” he said. “May I say, it took me quite be surprise to see you looking quite calm and pleased to be attending a riot.”

“Indeed, I was not ‘pleased to be
attending.
. . .”

“Of course not.
I was sure you could not have changed that much in eight years.”

Sarah smiled slightly, “You always have had a way of. . . .”

“Upsetting you?” he asked innocently.

“Not exactly the word I would have selected,” she chided, “but close. You have changed for the better. I sensed a strength in you tonight and a knowledge of how to defend me, should the need arise.”

“The military does breed a certain amount of confidence in a man, whether to his detriment or benefit, I am not sure.” Leaning back on the carriage seat, he said, “You have certainly matured beautifully. Little did I know back then that you were to become a published
author.
If things keep progressing, you will be as famous as Jane Austen,” he gently teased.

“Poo, poo.
I am only a lamp compared to her bright sunshine. You, however, took several firsts at Cambridge, I understand.”

“That is true; but that and my military service seem so insignificant. The calling I feel to enter the ministry has given new meaning to my life.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

At this point, the conversation was interrupted as the older men returned to the carriage. The entire party was thankful to be returning home unmolested.

The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy arrived at Staley Hall, with Maria. Sir Thomas handed the ladies out. Mr. Darcy stepped down and asked Sir Thomas, “Your brief stop last night greatly allayed our concern, but now you must tell us all about it.”