Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
E lizabeth watched from her window as her cousin trotted down the cobbled path towards his garden gate. He had missed the chance to bow to the carriage of Lady Catherine’s physician as it had entered less than an hour before, and it was apparent he would not miss the opportunity to do so as Mr Seymour departed. From what Mr Collins had said, Miss de Bourgh had been under the care of Mr Seymour for many years, but as it was obvious to anyone that the lady was stronger now than she had ever been, Elizabeth found it strange that the man should have been called for. Perhaps Lady Catherine herself was not feeling well.When Elizabeth passed by Molly Scarlett coming down from the great house, Elizabeth took the opportunity to enquire.
“I saw Mr Seymour pass. I hope Lady Catherine is not ill, for I cannot imagine he is there for his usual patient, Miss de Bourgh,” she whispered as she fell into step with Molly, who had returned to her work as a laundry maid now that Samuel was well enough to return to the stables with Jem.
“Lady Catherine never allows herself to be ill,” Molly replied. She hesitated a moment, looked about her, then added, “Though it did not seem that he was there for Miss de Bourgh, neither, for she refused to see him.”
“How strange,” Elizabeth said, allowing the thought to hang in the air.
“Oh there be lots of strange happenings up at the great house, miss. Of course, I’d never say a word against the family,” Molly whispered with a sardonic smile.
“To be sure,” Elizabeth replied.
“It seems Miss de Bourgh is getting better, but instead of being happy about it, Lady Catherine is all aggravated like. Miss de Bourgh has taken to arguing with her ma about any little thing, and even the colonel with all his charms ain’t able to break them up at times!”
Elizabeth gasped appropriately.
“I know. Mrs Walker, the poor housekeeper! I’ve heard her wish for Mr Darcy more than once this last week he has been gone.”
“Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth was surprised to hear her friend mention that name after what they had all been through together, but could not help enquiring further.
“Aye, he is the only one who can calm Lady Catherine down when she gets in one of her upsets. Talks real soft-like to her with that stern brow of his. And praise God, it works!”
How is it that every person in Kent seems to have so much good to say of Mr Darcy?
“Indeed. And now he is gone,” Elizabeth said absentmindedly. “That must be very hard on the servants. I hope it is not making your work too difficult.”
“Oh, no miss. I never work upstairs, so I do not hear as much. But, like I say, poor Mrs Walker! She bears the brunt of it. Though I gather she is much happier here than she would be anywhere else, getting to be nearer her ma and all. I am sure she happily puts up with any unpleasantness.”
“She has come to Rosings only recently, then?”
“Aye, after her elderly pa died. Right sad she was, being so far away and all. But her master arranged for her to come work here so as to help her ma, and she could not be gladder of it.”
“And where was she before, do you know?” Elizabeth bit her lip. Why did she feel she already knew the answer?
“She was a housemaid at Pemberley, in Derbyshire.”
Of course.
“What was that about?” Charlotte asked as Elizabeth re-entered the house through the back entrance.
“Oh, I was just catching up with Molly. I have not seen her at the cottage since she has been back to work,” Elizabeth prevaricated, not sure how much she should divulge to her friend. Elizabeth was loath to admit how impertinent she had been in prying. “Did you know that Mrs Walker, Lady Catherine’s housekeeper, moved here from Pemberley at Mr Darcy’s behest?”
“Yes, to be nearer to her mother, I understand.”
“Would you have believed that the arrogant man we knew in Hertfordshire only mere months ago possessed such generosity, such goodness as to procure a common housemaid a fine position in his aunt’s house? And for the sole purpose of giving her the comfort of being near her widowed mother?”
“I would have, yes, but I can understand why you should not. I was not the victim of his insults nor his slight,” Charlotte answered with a meaningful look. “I had no reason to think ill of him other than his having spoken thoughtlessly of my friend. I could see how charitable he was with Mr Bingley. And how patient he was with that gentleman’s sisters, as trying as he obviously found them.”
“You are sure he was not just in silent agreement with their superciliousness?”
“No, indeed. I believe Mr Darcy does not suffer fine ladies gladly. He certainly does not trust them. Of course, who could blame him after what his mother did?”
“What do you know about Lady Anne?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I suppose you have not heard the story, then,” Charlotte said. “Apparently, when Mr Darcy was twelve years old, Lady Anne was in a terribly depressed mood after the birth of his sister. This mood lasted many months, so they say. On the night of the Darcys’ annual harvest feast, father and son went out with all the family to celebrate with the tenants and servants, but Lady Anne chose to stay back. She used the excuse of staying with the baby, thus allowing her nurse to join the revelry along with all the other servants.”
“So, she was alone in that great house with her baby,” Elizabeth concluded when Charlotte took too long in continuing.
“Yes, but not for long, for when the elder Mr Darcy and the rest of the family returned, she was nowhere to be found. She had taken a portmanteau full of day dresses and other essentials, according to what her maid found to be missing, along with some jewellery, and run away. Their first clue that something was amiss was the sound of little Georgiana’s cries reverberating through the family wing of the house.”
Charlotte’s hand floated towards her belly and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of an uncharacteristic sheen of wetness in her friend’s eyes. Putting two and two together, Elizabeth covered Charlotte’s hand with her own and smiled.
“The bond between a mother and a child should be the strongest bond of all,” Elizabeth offered after a moment of tender silence. Charlotte smiled, looked down at her barely burgeoning middle, and gave a small, sad nod.
“Indeed,” Charlotte eventually responded in her usual placid manner. “And, as if her leaving was not hard enough on the Darcy family, it was soon found that the very man who had been hired to rebuild the barn for the feast that evening had fled town that night, as well. Soon, there were rumours of sightings of the pair, as well as miraculous remembrances of having seen the two together throughout his time at Pemberley.”
“Naturally,” Elizabeth said with a scoff. “How else would the entire county prove what an abominable person she was?” She had seen such treachery herself among the gossips in her home village. No sooner was a suspicion voiced than it was established by two or more witnesses and its victim slain in the court of public opinion. Though her tone was flippant, her heart’s contemplations were sombre.
Poor Mr Darcy. Poor Miss Darcy! To be abandoned by a mother who claimed to love you dearly—no wonder Mr Darcy was so hesitant to hear her spoken of. But, if she had heartlessly discarded those who needed her, why would Lady Catherine persist in speaking of her with such reverence? ‘Her sainted Aunt Anne’, Miss de Bourgh had called her.
Charlotte allowed Elizabeth her reverie, excusing herself to take a rest before supper. Elizabeth hardly noted her absence as she replayed over and over in her mind everything she had heard about Lady Anne Darcy since coming to Rosings.
Lady Anne would be heartbroken if she knew Mr Darcy wished to renovate the hallowed grounds of the venerable library at Pemberley. She had not been seen in sixteen years. Anne de Bourgh was even now wearing a pendant she had apparently stolen from her aunt. Miss de Bourgh did not seem to view Lady Anne with the same veneration as her mother; indeed, she seemed to think her mother’s adoration of her long-lost sister absurd, even somewhat pathetic. This was not surprising given the rumours that raged about the mistress of Pemberley absconding with the hired hand. Still, Lady Catherine felt that Lady Anne’s name had been undeservedly dragged through the muck these sixteen years.
What could it all mean?