Chapter Thirty-Seven
E lizabeth and Mr. Darcy waited in the drawing room while their rooms were prepared. Thanks to the veritable army of servants that had been summoned by Mr. Barton, the suite of rooms belonging to the master and mistress of the estate were ready to receive them in just a few hours.
Mr. Darcy escorted Elizabeth up the long, curving flight of stairs to her new rooms. There was a huge bedroom, with a large four-poster bed, as well as a dressing room, a bathing room, and a small office. While the décor was as outdated as that in the drawing room, it was more luxury and space than Elizabeth had ever imagined, and she had to school her features not to reveal her shock.
“This door connects to a spacious sitting room, which you and I share, and on the other side of that sitting room is my own bedroom,” Mr. Darcy explained. Some of the furniture had quite evidently been cleared out, though, which brought a frown to his face. “She has taken some of the furniture, but no matter; the house is full of furniture,” he told Elizabeth. “Pick whatever you like and have it moved into your own rooms.”
“I shall,” she promised him.
“If nothing suits your taste, of course, we can order whatever you like. And will you need a maid to help you prepare for dinner?” he asked.
“Yes, unless you wish to serve as my maid, as you have these past four days,” she teased him.
“I would be delighted to do so,” he answered, smiling at her. “But we must arrange for you to have your own maid as soon as may be.”
When he left, Elizabeth sorted through her trunks. Recalling that her Aunt Gardiner had gifted her additional clothing, she opened the new trunk to find a veritable rainbow of gowns inside, all beautifully and stylishly made. Elizabeth had been grateful for the material for the wedding gown, but now she was almost faint with appreciation. She would face Lady Anne over dinner in a new, fashionable gown. Kate was right; clothing made a difference. She would wear her pearl necklace as well.
A tug on the bell brought a silent maid, who helped her wash and change into one of the new gowns.
***
An hour later, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth made their way downstairs to the drawing room. Georgiana was there alone, looking nervous.
“Good evening, Georgiana. Where is our mother?” Mr. Darcy asked her.
She moved her shoulders in a small shrug.
Mr. Darcy sighed. “Very well.”
Elizabeth said, kindly, “Your brother tells me that you are a great proficient on the pianoforte, Miss Darcy.”
Georgiana stared at her slippers as she whispered, “I love music.”
Elizabeth, determined to make a friend of the girl, said, “I play a little. I am certain my efforts will be paltry in comparison with your own, but perhaps we might attempt a duet?”
“If you wish.” There was no enthusiasm in her voice.
Elizabeth stifled a sigh.
Finally, Lady Anne swept in, dressed as if she were in a London salon. Mr. Darcy rose to his feet, his eyebrows arched. “Is there an occasion, Mother?”
“Of course!” she said, her voice brittle. “You have brought home a new bride; is that not reason for celebration?” Then she looked at Elizabeth. “Your dress is well enough, but you will be expected to do something with all that – that hair!” The sneer in her voice could not be mistaken.
Elizabeth replied, with an attempt at a laugh, “I do not yet have a maid, Lady Anne, as I left mine at home for my sisters. My much put-upon husband helped me to dress on our journey, but he has not mastered any elaborate hairstyles; neither, apparently, has the maid who answered when I rang my bell.”
Lady Anne gasped. “Fitzwilliam dressed you?”
Elizabeth shrugged, perversely delighted at the woman’s dismay. “What would you have me do?”
Georgiana ventured, “There are many servants here who would like to be your lady’s maid, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth, glad her new sister had spoken, said, “Oh! Will you select one for me, Miss Darcy?”
Lady Anne sent her daughter a severe look, and the girl shrank back on the sofa. “I will have Mrs. Reynolds send someone to you, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Anne replied.
“I thank you, Lady Anne.”
Dinner was announced, and Lady Anne made it a point to lead the way into the dining room. She sat, immediately, at the foot of the table.
Mr. Darcy scowled at her. “That is no longer your seat, Mother.”
“It has been my seat these past thirty years,” she protested.
“But now it is Elizabeth’s seat,” he reminded her.
There was a tense silence in the room. Elizabeth would have liked very much to give the woman the point and let her have her seat, but her husband’s words returned to her – she was to take her place as mistress of the house and not let herself be put upon. But it was dreadful! Even the servants froze, waiting to see what Lady Anne would do. Finally, she rose, regally. “I find that I have a headache. I will retire,” she said, and she left the room.
Everyone in the room exhaled as Elizabeth took the vacated seat. She had no appetite, and wished that she, too, could retire to her room, but she knew it was important that she take her rightful place at the table.
The dinner proceeded. There were many dishes, as many as Elizabeth had seen at Lady Catherine’s house. Many of them were returned to the kitchen untouched. Conversation was stilted; Elizabeth tried again to speak with her new sister, asking about her favourite composers and the like, but Miss Darcy’s discomfort could not be mistaken.
Finally, dinner was over; Elizabeth rose, and the three of them went silently to the drawing room. Elizabeth served tea, learning Miss Darcy’s preference for milk and two sugars, and she rose to retire as soon as it was polite to do so. The moment she did so, Mr. Darcy rose with alacrity, his eyes intent on his wife.
Only then did Elizabeth recall that this was the night William would come to her bed.