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Authors: JUDITH BROCKLEHURST
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already.”
“But there is another mile and a half to go,” Edmund Caldwell objected.
“Do not be concerned, I shall do very well,” Anne replied.
“It is a pity that you do not walk more,” he said. “It is always so: the more people walk, the more strength they have.”
“It is true, but at home, I was considered to be unwell. I only walked in the gardens, or went out in a carriage with my companion—the lady who looked after me. The walk to church, in good weather, was the farthest I ever got.”
“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 linenfold, 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.
E ACH MORNING, ANNE WOULD RIDE. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM WAS very pleased with her, and she found riding far less tiring than
“But there is another mile and a half to go,” Edmund Caldwell objected.
“Do not be concerned, I shall do very well,” Anne replied.
“It is a pity that you do not walk more,” he said. “It is always so: the more people walk, the more strength they have.”
“It is true, but at home, I was considered to be unwell. I only walked in the gardens, or went out in a carriage with my companion—the lady who looked after me. The walk to church, in good weather, was the farthest I ever got.”
“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 linenfold, 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.
E ACH MORNING, ANNE WOULD RIDE. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM WAS very pleased with her, and she found riding far less tiring than
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