“The way gets easier after the next turning,” Mrs Caldwell said. “Do you see that track to the right? The one that turns away just before the park gate, and winds up by the stream, among those rocks? That goes to Edmund's house. He does not live with us, you know; he has his own home.”
“It is three and a half miles from here,” he said, “up a very steep track, unsuited for carriages, and fit only for riding. I would not recommend you to walk up there, Miss de Bourgh. It is very hard. There is a carriage way up the other side, from Burley.”
“But perhaps we might make an expedition sometime; the house is worth seeing,” Mrs Caldwell said. “It is quite an historic place, though it is old and shabby, and he has never fitted it up properly, because he lives there as a bachelor.”
“It is true,” her son said. “I rough it in two rooms, and the rest of the house is pretty well empty.”
“And I think,” said his mother, “that he lives on bread and ham.”
“Oh, come, Mother, it is not so bad as that. Old Murray's wife is quite a good cook; they look after me very well.”
“It will be very pleasant when it is done up—and you will, sometime,” his mother said. “The rooms are all done up in the old paneled style, Miss de Bourgh, which they call linen-fold, and it is rather dark.”
“But I think you might like to see it, Miss de Bourgh,” her son said. “It was built by recusants—people who wanted to go on practising the old Catholic religion, in Queen Elizabeth's time. They wanted to live in a retired place, for their religion was forbidden. But they needed to see who was coming, and there is one room upstairs that has three windows, with views down several valleys. I have always thought it would be a wonderful room for a painter, or for an author to write in.”
“What happened to them?” Anne asked.
“Oh, they were ruined by the fines, for if people did not go to church, they were made to pay, so the queen got rich and they got poor. In the end, the house was sold and they went to live overseas, in France, and never came back.”
“That is a sad story.”
“Yes, it is,” said Edmund. “I often feel sad for those people, ruined for practising what they believed in.”
“But… is it not very wrong, to be a Roman Catholic? I was always taught so.”
“But then, is it not wrong to punish people for their beliefs? And what about those people, who truly believed that they must teach this belief to their children, and no other?”
“Now,” said Mrs Caldwell, laughing, “you have done something, Miss de Bourgh, that no Caldwell can resist. You have started an argument.”
“Say rather, a discussion,” said her son. “Do not be afraid, Miss de Bourgh, we will not get angry.” And, discoursing of religious beliefs, and houses, and history, they reached Pemberley in very good time, and Anne found that she was not tired at all! Walking, she thought, did agree with her, especially when it was done in the company of Mr Edmund Caldwell.
Georgiana, they learned, had scraped her hands, and bruised her knee, but there was no sign of a sprain, and it seemed that the pain she had experienced must have been due to the shock of the fall. Most importantly, she would not be prevented from going to the Lambton assembly, which was shortly to take place.
Chapter 11
Each morning, Anne would ride. Colonel Fitzwilliam was very pleased with her, and she found riding far less tiring than walking, allowing her to see more of the park.
One morning, a few days after the walk to the rock face, when the two of them got back, they learned that Mrs Caldwell had gone out driving with Mrs Darcy, but since the pony carriage would only hold two, the others had decided on a walk. Darcy, it seemed, had business letters that would not wait. Colonel Fitzwilliam said he would follow the walking party and catch them up. Anne was disinclined to walk, and went to Georgiana's room to practise at the piano. She had but just begun, when the butler approached her and murmured, “A person to see you, miss.”
“Who is it, Forrest?”
“I understand he is your respected mother's agent, miss.”
“Oh! very well, I will see him.”
The agent was in the library. “Good day, Mr Colby.”
“Good day, miss. I was expecting…”
“Yes, of Course; you were expecting to see Lady Catherine. Well, she is at Burley; she was taken ill, you see, on the way here.”
“Yes, miss, so I understand from Mr Forrest. I shall go there, of course. I will be on my way—but there is just one thing, since you are here, miss. It is regarding the usual business at this time of year,” and, smiling kindly, he withdrew from his case a pile of papers. “If you would just sign over the income, as per usual, your signature is wanted here, and here…”
Anne looked at the papers. “What is this, Colby?”
“Why, miss, you sign it every year, it is just as usual.”
“Yes, but what do I sign? I think I should read it, first.”
Mr Colby looked a little agitated. “Lady Catherine wishes it
Signed, ma'am.”
“But I am not sure that I should sign it, without understanding what is in it.”
“There is nothing different, miss, you sign it every year.” “
Well, that may be so, but I think I should not have signed it, Without understanding it.”
“It is just your name, miss, and it makes over the income.”
Anne began to feel confused, and frightened. Mr Colby seemed So sure; why was she being so stupid? It must be right, to sign; but why could she not know what she was doing?
Just at that moment, Mr Edmund Caldwell came in. “Oh! Excuse me, Miss de Bourgh. I was looking for Darcy.”
“I believe he is in his study,” said Anne; and he made to leave. Suddenly she called out “Oh! pray, Mr Caldwell, do not leave, pray help me.”
He came back into the room. “What is the matter, Miss de Bourgh?”
“It is only… Mr Colby has brought this document for me to sign, and I do not know… I do not understand… I am sure it is right, but should I sign something I do not understand?”
“Certainly not,” he replied, calmly. “Mr… Colby, is it?… that seems to be a legal document that you have there; can you not explain its nature to Miss de Bourgh?”
“Oh, sir,” the agent replied, smiling patronizingly, “young ladies do not want to understand the intricacies of such things, young ladies and legal language do not mix.”
“Then young ladies will be swindled, as older people have been before them,” Mr Caldwell replied, holding out his hand for the papers. He perused the top ones swiftly.
“This seems to be a document handing something over three hundred pounds into Lady Catherine's keeping,” he said. “How comes this about, that Miss de Bourgh should be in possession of such a sum? And this being the case, why should she be expected to surrender it? Do you know anything about this, Miss de Bourgh?”
“No, sir.”
“Excuse me, sir,” the agent said, “but this is a private family matter, and…”
“You are right,” said Mr Caldwell. “It is a family matter, and Miss de Bourgh needs the advice of a member of her family,” and ringing the bell, he ordered the butler. “Request Mr Darcy to come here immediately. Miss de Bourgh is in distress, and needs him.” The butler disappeared. “Oh, do not leave me,” Anne whispered, almost ready to sink. “Do not be afraid, Miss de Bourgh,” he said. “I will not leave until Mr Darcy arrives,” and, taking her to an armchair, he compelled her to be seated, and sat down opposite her in silence, smiling reassuringly at her, until her cousin appeared, whereupon he quietly left the room.
