Chapter Thirty-Nine
W hen Elizabeth awoke the next morning, she was alone. She felt confused in a way she had never before experienced. The events of the past day – and the past night – rushed at her, all at once, and she hardly felt equal to getting out of bed, let alone dressing to break her fast.
What was she to do? Her mother by marriage clearly hated her, her new sister would not speak to her, and becoming a valued mistress of this vast estate seemed like an impossible task. But she loved William, and after last night, she felt that nothing – nothing! – should be allowed to part them.
She would simply have to take on this impossible task, bit by bit, day by day. There was nothing to gain by delaying; she started to get out of bed and then fell back with a gasp. She was sore, her thighs aching with the unaccustomed exercise of the previous night. She swallowed, hard, and then managed to get herself out of bed.
She pulled the cord and an older woman appeared. This one refused to speak to her at all, not even unbending enough to give her name. She rifled through Elizabeth’s gowns, selected one and had Elizabeth dressed in what seemed like a moment. Then she uttered one word. “Hair?”
Elizabeth was completely unnerved; certain that this woman was no friend, she replied, quickly, “No; I can manage.”
Without even a curtsey, the woman vanished as quickly and silently as she had appeared. Elizabeth put her hair up in a simple twist, and left the room. There was a footman at the end of the hall, and she asked him to lead her to the family breakfast room. He bowed and led the way.
She was immensely relieved to see her husband at the table. He rose, immediately, and pulled out the chair beside his own.
“Elizabeth! You are well, I trust?” He looked at her meaningfully.
She understood to what he referred, and she nodded. “I am,” she replied, aware of the footmen in the room. She continued, “William, I would like to speak with the housekeeper as soon as may be; Mrs. Reynolds, is it?”
“Of course,” he said. “I thought a tour of the house, first.”
“Mrs. Reynolds first, please, and then I would very much like a tour of the house.”
She seemed quite determined, and he was concerned. “Is there a particular reason for needing to speak to Mrs. Reynolds?”
As much for the footmen’s ears as William’s, she responded. “The young maid who attended me last night, Carrie, told me that she feared she would be let go if she spoke to me. I promised her that I would speak to Mrs. Reynolds immediately to make certain this would not happen.”
“Elizabeth, that seems – well, quite unlikely. No one would be let go for speaking with you! Are you certain that you understood her?”
“Quite certain, William. Is there a reason you doubt me?”
He shook his head. “No, just that Mrs. Reynolds would never be so unreasonable.”
“It is not Mrs. Reynolds who concerns me.”
He understood her immediately. His brow creased as he considered this, and then shook his head again. “No, she would never stoop so low.”
“Would she not? Carrie confirmed that your mother received your letter announcing our marriage and subsequent arrival.”
Mr. Darcy sighed. “Elizabeth, we must give my mother time to accustom herself to her new situation.”
“Of course, but while she is accustoming herself, I must make certain that Carrie is not harmed.” She turned then, and addressed one of the footmen. “May I have your name?”
He looked surprised, and then replied, “Joseph, ma’am.”
“Joseph, will you please tell Mrs. Reynolds that I will meet her in her office in a half an hour?”
He bowed and left.
“Elizabeth, I must beg you to tread with care. My mother is being unreasonable, I know, but remember that she and Mrs. Reynolds have spent decades together.”
“I will certainly tread with the greatest of care, William! Now, then, is that apple muffin?”
Diverted, he passed her the basket of muffins and their talk moved to other topics. But half an hour later, she rose, placed her napkin on her plate, and said, “Will you take me to Mrs. Reynolds, or shall I ask the footman? I know you must have a pile of correspondence three feet tall!”
“You are quite right about the pile of correspondence, but I will take you to Mrs. Reynolds myself.”
He led her through a maze of hallways, arriving at last at the housekeeper’s office. He knocked, and stepped aside to allow Elizabeth to precede him.
Mrs. Reynolds rose and curtsied.
“Mrs. Reynolds! It is good to see you looking well,” Mr. Darcy replied.
The woman coloured with pleasure. “And it is good to have the master home again,” she said, affection in her voice.
Mr. Darcy introduced them formally. Then Elizabeth spoke. “Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds. As you and I will be working closely together, I thought we might spend some time with one another this morning.”
“I will be happy to do so,” the older woman agreed. “Do you wish tea, Mrs. Darcy?”
“I thank you, no; we have just finished breaking our fast.”
“I will leave you two to get acquainted,” Mr. Darcy said, and left.
The two woman stared at one another in silence. Elizabeth broke it, saying, “May we speak frankly, Mrs. Reynolds?”
The housekeeper sighed. “I suppose we must.”
“Yes, we must. First, I must tell you that the young girl who attended me last night, Carrie, was afraid for her position if she so much as spoke to me. As a result, I must insist that none of the servants be removed from their duties without my express consent.”
“No one has told the servants not to speak with you, Mrs. Darcy.”
“I must strongly disagree, Mrs. Reynolds; the woman who helped me dress this morning said exactly one word to me, and then marched out the moment her duties were done. Carrie stated plainly that she had been told not to speak with me. It is quite evident that word is being spread that I am not to be acknowledged.”
Mrs. Reynolds closed her eyes, and then put her head in her hands.
Elizabeth remained silent.
Finally, Mrs. Reynolds raised her head, allowing Elizabeth to see the tears in her eyes. “My lady has been mistress of Pemberley for so long, and to just be replaced – well, she is at a loss, Mrs. Darcy. Can you understand that?” she whispered.
“I can, as it happens. My mother is the mistress of an estate as well, and she knows full well that her title is a temporary one. She dreads losing it, of course, but she recognises that the day will come.”
“Lady Anne does not know what to do,” Mrs. Reynolds said.
“What she is to do is simple enough; she is to train me to replace her. That is her duty.”
“Mrs. Darcy, I hope and pray you can understand that Mrs. Darcy – Lady Anne – has been an excellent mistress for Pemberley. She has cared for all of us, family, servants and tenants alike, since she married Mr. Darcy’s father.”
“I am happy to hear of it,” Elizabeth returned. “But she has a final duty to discharge, that of training her successor, and in that she is failing.” Elizabeth leaned forward. “Mrs. Reynolds, I am not interested in winning a war with Lady Anne. I am only interested in making certain that Pemberley does not suffer. For that, I need your help. I understand and applaud your loyalty to your mistress, but at the end of the day, we are all here to serve Pemberley and its dependents. Do we agree on that?”
Mrs. Reynolds nodded.
“Then please help me to help Pemberley. Do not let Lady Anne discharge servants simply for speaking with me. Allow me to begin to take on my duties, and correct me when I go astray. I have been trained to run an estate, but I had never anticipated being required to manage an enterprise as large as Pemberley. I promise that I will never ask you do anything to harm Lady Anne, but please, will you not help me, for Pemberley’s sake?”
There was a minute’s silence as the two women stared at one another. Then Mrs. Reynolds nodded, and said, quietly, “I will.”
They agreed to begin with the week’s menus. “Lady Anne allows Cook to set the menus; so for you to ask to approve them would not be taking anything from Lady Anne directly.”
“Would it not upset Cook?” Elizabeth enquired.
“As it happens, no; Cook has not been happy that the mistress – Lady Anne, that is – is not sufficiently interested in the food to approve menus.”
Elizabeth gave a small laugh. “Well, she is in for a treat, then, as I am very interested in food. I promised Mr. Darcy that I would accompany him on a tour of the house; perhaps you might arrange for me to meet with Cook at two o’clock this afternoon?”
“Very good, Mrs. Darcy. I will have her meet you in your private office.”
“Private office?”
“It is in your suite of rooms.”
“Ah, I understand. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds; now I must find Mr. Darcy.”
“He will be in his study. Come, I will take you there.”
***
The tour occupied the remainder of the morning, but they did not see much beyond the first floor. The reason for this was simple: the library had been one of the first rooms Mr. Darcy had shown her, and she had declared her fervent desire to never leave it. She had been persuaded to continue with the tour only after he had promised her that she would have free access to the room and its treasures, without restriction.
When it was time for her meeting with Cook, Mr. Darcy escorted her back to her room, as she was still liable to become lost in the hallways. He said, “Do tell her that I am very partial to her blueberry tarts! They do not appear often enough to suit me.” His smile was boyish.
“Blueberry tarts shall be at the top of my list,” she promised him, smiling.
He looked around; seeing no servants about, he wrapped his arms about her, pulled her in close, and kissed her deeply. He was very much looking forward to tonight.
As she went inside and closed the door, he returned to his study, where that stack of correspondence still awaited him. He had smiled and laughed with Elizabeth, but now that he was alone, his mind was churning. His night with his wife had wiped his mother’s actions from his mind completely; but now that his reason was restored, he was deeply concerned. What if his mother never reconciled herself to Elizabeth’s presence? Would Pemberley become a battleground?
***
Cook was clearly delighted to have been asked to meet with the new Mrs. Darcy. Lady Anne’s orders had been to prepare several courses for each meal, but Cook was well aware that neither Mr. Darcy nor Miss Darcy could possibly consume that much food.
Perhaps the new Mrs. Darcy would be more sensible. Cook had the menus for the remainder of the week written out; she would show them to the new Mrs. Darcy.
She and Mrs. Reynolds mounted the stairs together. Cook had never been in the family wing of the house, and her mouth hung open as she saw the various pieces of art and decoration, any one of which would have kept a tenant family for a year. Mrs. Reynolds saw her expression and frowned at her.
“I cannot help it, ma’am,” she whispered to the housekeeper. “Such riches!”
“And none of them belong to you or to me, so you keep your eyes to yourself,” Mrs. Reynolds replied.
When they reached Mrs. Darcy’s rooms, Mrs. Reynolds knocked softly.
“Come in, Mrs. Reynolds.”
The two entered, and Cook could not help the gasp that escaped her lips. All this, for one small young woman! Mrs. Reynolds scowled at her fiercely, but Mrs. Darcy laughed, merrily. “I know, it is all rather too much, is it not?”
Elizabeth rose and extended a hand to Cook. “I know they call you Cook, but may I have your name?”
“I am Mrs. Thurston, ma’am.” And she took the proffered hand.
“Do you prefer that I call you Cook or Mrs. Thurston?”
“I would not mind being called by my name, ma’am,” she said.
“Very good; let us sit in my office.” She led the way to the small room that housed a desk, a large bookcase, and several chairs.
Once they were all seated, Mrs. Darcy began. “I have only been here one day, Mrs. Thurston, but everything I have tasted has been delicious. I see you have something in your hand; is that the menus for the rest of the week?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Thurston handed them over. “I am sorry, I know my handwriting is –“
“Perfectly legible, Mrs. Thurston, please do not fret.”
There was a minute’s silence, as Elizabeth read over the list of dishes to be prepared. “Mrs. Thurston, I hope you will be frank with me. This all seems like rather a lot of food for four people, three of whom are small ladies. Goodness, this would have fed my entire family of six, and there would have been enough remaining for the next day!”
“I have obeyed Lady Anne’s directions,” Mrs. Thurston said.
“I know that, but – what is your opinion?”
Mrs. Thurston cast a despairing glance at Mrs. Reynolds, who sighed deeply. “Go on, Cook.”
“I know the master and the young lady would like far simpler meals, but it is her ladyship I have been told to obey.”
“Now you have a different mistress. The food can be far simpler and the majority of the household would be pleased. Also, there is a good deal of it. I think we could cut all this in half and it would still be enough. Unless – hold, I do not wish to make an error here. I assume the leftovers go to feed the staff?”
“They are, but no one below stairs needs food fit for the Queen.”
Elizabeth laughed out loud. “Mrs. Thurston, you are clearly a woman of sense. Please write up the menus you think would best serve the situation, as you know the preferences of Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy. I want everyone to be well-fed, of course, but I prefer that you not be put to the trouble of creating a great number of extra dishes if they are not generally enjoyed.”
Mrs. Thurston nodded, enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am! I will do that directly.”
“Oh, one more thing, Mrs. Thurston. Mr. Darcy has a particular fondness for your blueberry tarts, and was at great pains to tell me that he would like to enjoy them more frequently.”
Mrs. Thurston now could not be happier. Her tarts had been praised, her opinion sought, and the new Mrs. Darcy was clearly a woman of good sense. “Yes, ma’am, and I thank you, ma’am!”
“No, I thank you , Mrs. Thurston. And I hope you will let me know – through Mrs. Reynolds, of course – if there is anything I can do to help the kitchen run more smoothly. I believe Bonaparte has observed that an army marches on its stomach, and though I do not want to be known to agree with him on anything, I cannot help but believe that a household is much the same. Mrs. Reynolds, perhaps you might remain?”
With a good deal of curtseying, Mrs. Thurston left the room, smiling hugely.
The two women looked at one another. Mrs. Reynolds said, frankly, “Well, you did an excellent job of winning Cook over.”
Elizabeth replied, equally frankly, “Good; that was certainly my intent. But truly, too many people in this country do not have enough to eat, and the idea of food being wasted! Well, it is a sin, is it not?”
Mrs. Reynolds then had a traitorous thought: Lady Anne had likely never encountered people who had not enough to eat. Perhaps this Mrs. Darcy’s background would better serve – and then she shut the thought down before it could flower any further.
“Mrs. Reynolds, I asked you to remain so that we might discuss the account books. Is it you or Lady Anne who has been keeping them up to date? I ask because it appears that the last account book in the office is dated three years ago.”
Mrs. Reynolds looked away.
“Mrs. Reynolds?”
“Her husband died, you know,” she began, and then she stopped.
Elizabeth understood in an instant. “So she has not kept the books since her husband died. I see. Dare I hope that you stepped into her shoes in that regard?”
“I did.”
Elizabeth breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank heavens. Mrs. Reynolds, I am capable of keeping the household accounts, so I will relieve you of that task. Might you have one of the footmen bring up all the books from the past three years? They should be in this office, of course; then you and I can review the most recent one together. But if this is not a good time, we can do it tomorrow.”
Mrs. Reynolds nodded, and said, “I will speak to Robert; he is just at the end of the corridor here.” She rose, curtsied, and left the room.
Just outside the mistress’ door, she leaned against the hallway and let the tears fall. She had been Lady Anne’s devoted servant these past many years, and she was now forced to help the new Mrs. Darcy take Lady Anne’s place. But worst of all was her suspicion that the new Mrs. Darcy would do very, very well as mistress of Pemberley, and was such a thought not a betrayal of Lady Anne?
***
Lady Anne was in the Ruby Room, composing a letter to her sister. She wrote fast and furiously, the words spilling out.
Dear Sister,
The most dreadful thing! Fitzwilliam married, actually married , that Elizabeth Bennet! The marriage was accomplished before I was even aware of it! And he has brought her here, to Pemberley, to replace me! She forced me to give up my own bedroom, which has been my own these thirty years, and she sat in my place at the table.
But, sister, you know that I am not one to give up easily!
And she poured out all her plans and ideas, all designed with one goal: to send Elizabeth Bennet running away from Pemberley.