My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Read online

  By the Same Author

  The Pemberley Chronicles

  The Women of Pemberley

  Netherfield Park Revisited

  The Ladies of Longbourn

  Mr Darcy's Daughter

  Postscript from Pemberley

  Recollections of Rosings

  A Woman of Influence

  The Legacy of Pemberley

  Copyright © 2009 by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Cover and internal design © 2009 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover Image © “HAPPY THOUGHTS”, William Oliver/Fine Art Photographic Library

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems— except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Landmark, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

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  Originally printed and bound in Australia by SNAP Printing, Sydney, NSW, October 2001. Reprinted December 2004 and March 2007.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Collins, Rebecca Ann.

  My cousin Caroline / devised and compiled by Rebecca Ann Collins.

  p. cm. — (The Pemberley chronicles ; bk. 6)

  Originally published: Sydney : SNAP Printing, 2001.

  1. England—Social life and customs—19th century—Fiction. I. Austen, Jane, 1775-1817. Pride and prejudice. II. Title.

  PR9619.4.C65M9 2009

  823'.92—dc22

  2009021799

  Printed and bound in the United States of America

  VP 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  An Introduction

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Part Two

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Part Three

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Part Four

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Part Five

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  An Epilogue…

  Postscript

  Appendix

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedicated to

  Jenni, Sue, and Colin,

  with my love.

  CAROLINE'S STORY IS RATHER SPECIAL.

  Ever since I devised The Pemberley Chronicles, in which she was to develop from a pretty young girl into a personable young woman, Caroline Gardiner and her Colonel have nagged at my mind. It is almost as though they demanded to have their own story told, rather than be just a subplot in the love story of Elizabeth and Darcy.

  He was one of Jane Austen's most promising minor characters in Pride and Prejudice, and she was chiefly mine.

  Jane Austen's depiction of Colonel Fitzwilliam leaves one in no doubt that he was an agreeable and attractive gentleman, lacking only adequate wealth to make him also an eligible bachelor. It was not difficult to devise some means by which he could acquire sufficient income and independence to permit him to follow his heart, albeit a few years later and with another young woman.

  Caroline Gardiner proved, as she matured, a useful foil to the silliness and irresponsibility of her cousin Lydia and also helped demonstrate Jane Austen's conviction that the Gardiners—a sensible and refined middle-class family embodying some of her own values—could well teach any gentleman's daughter a thing or two about decorum and style.

  The wedding of Elizabeth and Darcy, and Jane Austen's particular mention of their continuing intimate friendship with Mr and Mrs Gardiner, afforded me the opportunity to bring Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline Gardiner together, and the rest, while it may not be history, is not difficult to imagine.

  Given Elizabeth's affection for her young cousin and Mr Darcy's sincere regard for the Gardiners, there was scope for an interesting interplay of relationships between the families.

  The marriage of Caroline and the amiable Colonel combines the two social strands that come together in Pride and Prejudice, both equally valued by Jane Austen herself: the traditional codes of gentlemanly behaviour and the decent, sensible middle-class virtues of the Gardiners, of whom Elizabeth is so justly proud. Each supports the other, and in the success of their union, the contention that honourable behaviour is not the exclusive preserve of one class of society is reaffirmed.

  Because the time line of My Cousin Caroline crosses all the stories in the Pemberley series so far, it opened up possibilities of looking at some of the other characters again: Robert and Rose Gardiner, Richard and Cassandra, Lydia and Wickham, and even Darcy and Elizabeth, as they settled into their marriages and faced new challenges.

  Perhaps best of all, it was a chance to revisit the days when Mr and Mrs Bennet, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and the impossible Mr Collins were still with us. Their demise in Book One of The Pemberley Chronicles upset many readers; I hope their return, even for a short spell, will please some of them.

  As for Caroline herself, it was easy to invest her with intelligence and courage as well as beauty and let her go, knowing she may stumble, as most romantic young persons do, but never fall. She is no paragon of virtue, but she has resilience and strength. Her life spans a period of historic change for women in late Georgian and Victorian England. Not all of them meekly accepted the strict boundaries society laid down for their lives; many worked actively to help the poor and advance causes that governments mostly ignored. Some, like Florence Nightingale, were positively modern in their activism.

  Caroline Fitzwilliam fills the role well. She is a loving, loyal daughter, wife, and mother, but she is her own woman—almost incorrigibly so. She enjoys living passionately but will not abdicate any of her responsibilities.

  It has been an absolute pleasure to tell her story in My Cousin Caroline; I hope all those readers of the Pemberley novels, who have written to ask for more, will like her too.

  RAC 2001.

  Website: www.geocities.com/shadesofpemberley

  For the benefit of those readers who wish to be reminded of the characters and their relationships to one another, an aide-memoire is provided in the appendix.

  AUTUMN 1817

  It was the absence of noise, rather than the excess of it, that roused Colonel Fitzwilliam from his sleep.

  He lay awhile in bed, letting his eyes become accustomed to the semi-darkness, hearing nothing, wondering vaguely where he was.

  He was confused at first, by the unfamiliarity of the environment in which he found himself—a large soft bed in a spacious room, instead of the cramped
quarters on board The Viking, where the water slapped at the ship's timbers and the winds soughed through her sails all night long. Slowly, he began to recall they had been due to berth at Portsmouth and yes, he remembered now, he had been ill while at sea, very ill indeed.

  Unsure and curious as to his present surroundings, Fitzwilliam rose from the bed, glancing momentarily at himself in the mirror, noted he was wearing someone else's night clothes, and still somewhat unsteady on his feet, walked over to the window. Drawing aside the heavy, blue brocade curtains, he looked out, not as he had expected, upon the narrow streets of the busy sea port of Portsmouth, but at a sunlit garden below, bounded on one side by a high wall and sloping gently westwards to a terrace, which, when one looked further, afforded a most seductive, distant view of a bay.

  There appeared to be no one about, except a gardener pruning a hedge. The building, of which he could see another part extending out towards the terrace, was an early Georgian construction, such as one might see in any prosperous coastal resort.

  Bewildered, he was about to return to his bed, contemplating further how he might have come to be in this place, when there was a knock on the door. A servant entered, bearing a tray, which he set down upon the table beside the window.

  “Good morning, sir,” he said as he moved to pour out a cup of tea. “Mr Jarrett said you were not to be disturbed, sir.”

  “Mr Jarrett! Of course.” Fitzwilliam knew then that this must be Southampton and asked quickly, “Is your master home?”

  The man shook his head. “No, sir, he is gone into the town. He had some business in the High Street. But he did give instructions that you were to be allowed to sleep as long as you wished—he said you had been very ill on the voyage, sir.”

  Fitzwilliam nodded, acknowledging the truth of this assertion, as he sat down to enjoy a most welcome cup of tea.

  Slowly the recollections returned; indeed now he remembered it all quite clearly; John Jarrett, his school mate, colleague, and fellow traveller on The Viking, had invited him to stay at his family's home in Southampton.

  It seemed such a long time ago—all those weeks, those interminable, hot days and nights crossing the Indian Ocean, and the huge seas pounding the ship as she ploughed into the Atlantic; it had felt like an eternity. For much of the last fortnight at sea, he had indeed been very ill; feverish, unable to eat or sleep, waiting only for the voyage to be over. It had been months since they had sailed from Colombo, Jarrett and he, both leaving the Eastern colonies to return permanently to England.

  Jarrett was going home to be married and Fitzwilliam, when he learned that there was a spare berth on board The Viking, had leapt at the opportunity to return a couple of months earlier than planned.

  The footman had left the room, and as he sat down to more excellent tea and fresh buttered toast, Fitzwilliam recalled again the difficult conditions they had endured on the voyage. The ship returning to England after completing a tour of duty escorting vessels of the East India Company across the China Sea, where they were forever in danger of being boarded by pirates, had called to pick up supplies in Colombo. Jarrett and he were fortunate indeed to obtain passages on a naval vessel, rather than the merchant trader they had been expecting. The abominable conditions on board some of them were legendary. Jarrett's own naval connections had helped secure them the berths and Fitzwilliam had been profoundly grateful to his friend.

  He had barely finished his breakfast when the door opened and Mr Jarrett appeared.

  “Fitzwilliam! Thank God, you are looking a good deal better this morning. I must say I am relieved. How do you feel?”

  The colonel, looking rather sheepish, admitted that his head was still somewhat sore and his tongue felt dreadful!

  “Is that all? You'll live then. I confess I thought when we got you here that we were going to have to call in Doctor Price. You looked very miserable indeed, my man thought you had caught some wretched fever—the kind spread by mosquitoes in the tropics,” he said, looking very anxious.

  Fitzwilliam hastened to reassure him. “I do not believe it was anything as serious as that; it was probably a combination of the cramped quarters, the foetid air below decks, the heat, and the wretched weather that affected me. I confess I am not a good sailor, nothing would have got me into the navy—I assure you, not even Nelson himself could have persuaded me to put to sea in a howling gale! But, as you see, I am much recovered, now that we are back on terra firma, and I shall soon be as right as rain.”

  His friend laughed. “I am so pleased to hear you say that—two nights ago, I would have said you were fit only for the infirmary!”

  “I have much to thank you for, Jarrett, including my night clothes, I see. You have been most kind.”

  Jarrett laughed, “Ah well, you did not believe I would leave you to the tender mercies of some dockside publican in Portsmouth, did you? Your trunks and bags have all been transported here and safely stored. The servants will bring them to you, whenever you are ready.”

  Urging his friend to take his time and promising to see him at dinner later, Jarrett left to attend to the various matters that awaited his urgent attention. He was being married in a fortnight. He had a good deal on his mind, a plethora of things to arrange, and not a lot of time to spare.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, had all the time in the world.

  The servant returned, removed the remains of his breakfast, fetched his clothes, which had been cleaned and pressed, before preparing his bath. He bathed and dressed slowly, savouring the pleasures of being back in the kind of comfortable environment he had enjoyed for most of his life.

  Going downstairs and finding no one about, he decided to explore the garden and perhaps take a walk into the town. Fitzwilliam did not know Southampton well, having only visited it when he was a very young lad at school. But he had heard a great deal about it from Jarrett, whose family had lived here for many years, ever since his grandfather retired from the navy.

  It was his very first visit to the Jarretts' family home—a commodious, well-constructed house, solidly built in Georgian style, set in a smallish garden where a green lawn bordered by laburnum and roses sloped down towards the water. As there was not a great deal to hold his attention, Fitzwilliam walked on, pausing on the terrace to admire the prospect which took in the bay and away to the west—the New Forest. It was, he thought, a remarkably salubrious spot and it did not surprise him that Jarrett, while at sea, had spoken of the place so fondly and with such nostalgia.

  Coming away from the terrace, he sought to make his way into the town, whither he assumed his friend had gone. As he walked, conscious of the particularly pleasing mildness of the day, his thoughts turned to his reasons for returning to England. Growing suddenly impatient of the indolence induced by long afternoons in the tropics waiting to be back in England, he had begun to long for home. Thoughts of Derbyshire brought memories of his cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy and Pemberley, which was as close to a home as he had ever known. The two cousins were very close and their joint guardianship of Darcy's sister, Georgiana, had drawn Fitzwilliam even deeper into the fold of the family.

  Darcy had been married some three years to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Fitzwilliam could not deny his own interest in her and knew he looked forward to seeing her again. He had admired her immensely and enjoyed her company. Of course, now she was his cousin's wife, they could only ever be friends. He hoped they would be good friends, but wondered why, at this moment, that did not seem a very consoling prospect.

  Having spent close to an hour acquainting himself with the attractions of the town, its gracious buildings lining clean streets, he was retracing his steps when his friend Jarrett appeared, looking most upset.

  As he approached, Fitzwilliam greeted him with a jest, “Jarrett, my friend, for a man about to be married, you look uncommonly worried and harassed.”

  Jarrett stopped right before him and said, “Yes, that is because I am, very worried indeed. I have come out in search of you
, to ask a favour. I need your help, Fitzwilliam, this is truly a crisis. Will you help me?”