But all her conjecture was wasted: she did not see him at church. Arriving early, they were shown to a pew almost at the front. It was impossible to turn around, and look behind, and by the time they emerged, slowed up by the crush of people in front of them, most of the congregation had left. She tried to go to the evening service—Mrs Caldwell, she thought, might very probably be there—but she was prevented. “What are you thinking of, Anne?” her mother said. “You know that we are to drink tea with the Duchess,” and she was obliged to sit there, for hours, and endure all the insipidity of the Duchess' conversation and Lord Francis' near-silence.
The next morning, no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. At breakfast, Mr Bennet said, “If none of you object to waiting a little, I would be very glad to visit the famous bookstore.” Anne, ready to leave, and wishing for some fresh air, said she would go with him: “They would only take a few minutes, they would be back almost at once,” and on this understanding, the carriage was ordered, and Georgiana and the Colonel were happy to stroll around the Promenade with Lady Catherine. But who can take only a few minutes, in a bookstore? Anne was trying to decide which, of three beguiling new novels, she wished to buy, when she found herself addressed: “My dear Miss de Bourgh, how very pleasant to meet you here!” It was Mr Caldwell, Edmund's father.
She was delighted, and stammered a greeting and an enquiry after his family. Now she would hear, at least, how Edmund was. “We are all well, my dear, very well, and we have some news that I am sure will interest you,” Mr Caldwell said. “We are losing Edmund; he is going away.”
“Away? Why… how is this? Where? When?” Anne realized that she was stammering, and tried to bring her words into order. “You will certainly miss him… is it business that takes him? And when will he leave?”
“He is to set out for Barbados, in a month or so I am not precisely sure—he will go to Liverpool shortly, to enquire about a passage.”
“Barbados? But that is…”
“It is in the West Indies. Yes, an island in the West Indies. Does that not sound interesting, Miss de Bourgh? He has been thinking about it for some time, and did not seem sure, but yesterday—no, yesterday was Sunday, it was Saturday, it was the day before yesterday, he came to us and said that he had made up his mind, he should go.”
Mr Caldwell was delighted to tell her the particulars: the family had unexpectedly received word that they had inherited, from a distant kinsman, a property on the island, of which little was known except that it had been abandoned on the owner's death, and left unclaimed for some years. Edmund believed that something might be made of it; that he might live out there, and operate it; that at least it would pay him to go out there, see it, and if nothing could be done, make arrangements to sell it. His careful work on the quarry, he believed, had paid off; he could leave it under the control of a manager in whom he had confidence.
“His greatest concern,” Mr Caldwell said, “is that, with his views, he could not contemplate the operation of the place by the use of slave labour, for it still goes on, you know, though it should not; the trade still continues, though there are laws against it. But Edmund wants to discover if he might not run the place using paid workers. It seems there are many white men there, who lost their employment years ago when the plantation owners went over to owning slaves, and have been living in poverty ever since. Is not that a dreadful thing, Miss de Bourgh?”
Alas! Anne could learn very little of all she wanted to know; Mr Caldwell was far more interested in the burning issue of slavery than in the material business of his son's journey. She was able to learn the approximate date of his departure, but then her companion called to her; even Mr Bennet was aware that they had spent too much time, and must leave. Taking a rapid farewell of Mr Caldwell, with only just enough time to send her warmest wishes to Mrs Caldwell, “…and my… my compliments to your son, if you please,” she was forced to hurry away.
Chapter 18
The farewells were cordial, promises were made to come back soon, it was a fine breezy day, and the journey back was a pleasant one. Anne heard nothing, saw nothing, and could not remember, later, in what terms she had taken leave of her mother. All the way back, she could think of nothing but what she had heard, and was trying to recall every word that Mr Caldwell had said, in case she forgot some circumstance, however trivial.
Edmund was leaving, Edmund was going away!
If only she had had more time to question Mr Caldwell, or even better, to go and see Mrs Caldwell, she could surely have found out more. He had decided, his father said, suddenly—and on the Saturday, the very day that he had met her, arm in arm with Lord Francis! But was that mere coincidence? Was she refining too much on her impressions? After all, she had no real proof of his affection for her; only that one conversation, that one gesture… it was very natural that a man, an ambitious man, should, on learning of such a bequest, decide on such an adventure.
Barbados! the word had a terrifying ring in her ears. Anne knew very little of the West Indies, but she knew that there were tropical diseases, there were hurricanes, and she was very sure that there were poisonous snakes. He might die before he even arrived there, swept overboard by a storm. If not, he would die of bad food, or be captured by a French privateer, or shot by angry sugar planters for trying to abolish slavery. He would marry a Creole beauty and stay there, and be lost to her for ever. But he was already lost to her—how could she have married him?—when her mother would certainly refuse to meet either him or his parents!
All she could think was that she must get to Burley again; she must find out more. She might say that she wanted to buy more books; she might say she wanted to see her mother again; Lady Catherine had, after all, been very happy to see her, and the visit had been an enjoyable one. Yes! she would do so, she would go there again, as soon as possible. If she were quick, she might even see him; he was going, Mr Caldwell had said, “In a month or so.” Oh! how long was that? It could mean almost anything. She would certainly go back to Burley! Perhaps she could persuade Mr Bennet to make the expedition with her, with the promise of spending more time in the fascinating bookstore; after all, she had been so overwhelmed with the hurry of the last few minutes, and the news she had received, that she had not bought one single book!
But this resolution was not carried into effect. The next morning, when Anne was awakened as usual, by her maid, the girl told her that the whole household was in confusion, for Mrs Darcy had been taken ill in the night, four weeks or more before her time, and the month nurse not yet arrived, and nobody dared speak to the master, and Mrs Reynolds was in such a state as never was.
“Mrs Reynolds?” Anne asked. “Why, what has she to do with anything?”
“Well, nothing, miss, as you might say, but there she is, crying and taking on, and it seems she had a sister what died, of a baby, Excuse me, miss, and she thinks that Mrs Darcy will die too, because of its being too soon-like.”
Anne dressed hurriedly, and went downstairs. There were only Mrs Annesley and Georgiana in the breakfast room, where the meal seemed much less carefully laid than was usual at Pemberley. However, since nobody was eating, this did not seem to be of much moment. Mrs Annesley, looking as composed as usual, told her that, since the month nurse was at a house ten miles away, and was known to have a very sick patient, she would probably not be able to come.
“But Georgiana's old nurse is here,” she said. “Since her retirement, she quite often goes to help with the village births, and she is a gentle, clean, sensible creature. Mrs Darcy knows Mrs Grainger well, and likes her so much!” and she smiled at Georgiana, who was looking very white and anxious, and tried in vain to smile back.