Chapter 7 #2
But Weymouth had a good look about it. Elizabeth, after some enquiries, found an economical but clean inn operated by a kindly looking older woman and her husband, a Mr and Mrs Danforth.
If Mrs Danforth was surprised to see an unaccompanied young lady ask about her rooms, she did not show it.
Elizabeth summoned as much graciousness as she could muster and said, “I wish to let a room, but I know not how long I might stay. It could be one night or several.”
Mrs Danforth nodded. “We have a place. Will you need some assistance with your bags?”
Elizabeth looked down at the bulging satchel into which she had crammed as many gowns as she could. “No, I do not think I shall, though if someone might help me press what I have, I would appreciate it.”
She bit her lip and, after a moment of consideration, asked, “I…I wonder whether you might be able to help me? I am here to seek employment. Would you happen to know of any situations in the area?”
The last was said in a rush of breath and anxiety that Mrs Danforth appeared to sense.
She looked up from her ledger, her eyes appraising Elizabeth.
Elizabeth tried not to shrink from the woman’s gaze, instead keeping as much serenity on her countenance as she could, as if being abandoned by one’s husband and being made to seek employment was something that happened every day.
Slowly, Mrs Danforth asked, “Have you ever served as a lady’s companion before?”
Elizabeth blushed deeply. “I have not been employed before.”
“Mrs Macy, down the way, needs someone. I shall warn you, though, there have been others, none good enough for the old gal.” Mrs Danforth gave Elizabeth a sly smile. “She’s a tough one, but kind once you know her.”
The next day found Elizabeth, clad in a gown that had been pressed to a respectable form by Mrs Danforth herself, off to see Mrs Macy.
A carriage had been sent for her, causing Elizabeth’s eyes to fill with tears.
As she settled back into the comfort of the plush squabs, she scolded herself.
“Really, Lizzy, have you grown so accustomed to being disregarded that decency makes you weep?”
But that was part of being with child, she had learnt. Her sensibilities lay close these days, always ready to spill over into tears.
Mrs Macy’s estate, Upton Park, was nothing to Pemberley, but it was very grand.
Elizabeth summoned her most ladylike demeanour as she followed the housekeeper to the sitting room where Mrs Macy awaited her.
As she curtseyed, she furtively examined her potential employer, aware that at the same time, she was being scrutinised as well.
Mrs Macy was likely more than seventy years of age, but her hair was in an elegant style, and her sparkling blue eyes shone with intelligence and wit. Her dress and her jewels were done to perfection, and she sat with the straight posture of a much younger woman.
“Mrs Darcy,” she said, “please sit and let us get to know one another. I once knew some Darcys—from Derbyshire, I think. Lady Anne was the daughter of the Earl of Matlock. They had a son, I believe. Is he your husband?”
Elizabeth froze as her dreams of employment in this home shattered around her. Stupid, stupid girl! How had she not considered that a lady of means might know the Darcy family!
Frantically, she searched her mind for a reasonable explanation, a rational story, and briefly, she considered simply standing, apologising, and leaving. However, she could not, as she had arrived in this lady’s conveyance and thus was quite fixed until the lady herself was done with her.
“I…I…hardly know how to explain myself, ma’am,” Elizabeth stammered.
Mrs Macy’s gaze was intent upon her, and Elizabeth realised, with little hope of a position to be gained, that she must have out with it.
“I should not have come here. I hope I do not importune you with the untenable position in which I find myself. As I have trespassed thus far, I feel I owe you a full recounting of the truth of the matter.”
The lady nodded her head.
“Yes, as you suspected, I am the wife of Mr Darcy of Pemberley—the son of Lady Anne and Mr George Darcy.
Mr Darcy and I met last autumn and were married quickly, within only two months of meeting one another.
We spent some months at his estate in Derbyshire and then returned to London for the Season.
“Although I am a gentleman’s daughter, I am not of Mr Darcy’s sphere.
I was raised on a modest estate in Hertfordshire, and our property is entailed on a distant cousin.
My mother’s people are in trade, and my four sisters and I have no fortune of our own, merely a portion of the five thousand pounds my mother brought to her marriage. ”
“And how did you meet so illustrious a gentleman as Mr Darcy, then? In London?”
“No, ma’am. We met because his friend, a Mr Bingley, took a lease on an estate in Hertfordshire that borders my father’s, and Mr Darcy went with him to see the place.”
The lady said nothing and merely looked at Elizabeth thoughtfully.
“I know not exactly what happened once we were in London, but as the Season went on, it seemed my husband became regretful of the fact that he had married me. He grew distant and cold, was frequently angry, and refused to be seen in company with me. After about a month or two of such behaviour, he decided he would send me to North Yorkshire to live at the estate of some friend of his.”
Mrs Macy inhaled audibly at this, and her chin raised; however, she still said nothing, and Elizabeth felt as if the old lady’s sharp gaze could see right through to her soul. After briefly pausing to sip her tea and quell her emotions, Elizabeth continued her tale.
“He did not answer my letters, nor did he send any of his own. I soon realised I had been abandoned and, what is worse, in a delicate state.”
Mrs Macy’s gaze flicked to Elizabeth’s abdomen.
“Once I had the interests of my child at heart, I realised I must not stay. I took what little pin money I had remaining and left. I feared having my child there as the smoke from the mines is constant, and it is a very remote place with few people around to help me.”
“And is the child the rightful son or daughter of Mr Darcy?”
It was shocking to hear it said so boldly, and by a stranger no less.
Elizabeth lowered her head, humiliated by the contemptible position in which she found herself.
In tones as sedate as she could manage, she replied, “Absolutely, ma’am.
I hold my vows sacred and always shall, no matter what he does. ”
To this defence, Mrs Macy offered no comment.
At length, Elizabeth said, “I do beg your forgiveness for any imposition on your hospitality or any discomfort I have caused you by requesting this meeting today. I find I am made very aware, suddenly, of the vulnerability of my present condition. Perhaps I ought to have done best to remain where he left me.”
There was a dreadful, long silence. Elizabeth was about to request that Mrs Macy send her back to the inn when the lady spoke.
“Do you play, Mrs Darcy?”
“I do, and I sing a little.” Elizabeth forced a faint smile. “My drawing, however, is dreadful.”
“Can you speak French?”
“Yes, and Italian and some German too.”
Mrs Macy rose and Elizabeth with her. “My carriage will return you to the inn for your things. We shall dine at six sharp and can then speak more about my expectations of you.”
“You are hiring me on?”
Mrs Macy smiled thinly at this, saying only, “I think you will do.”
As Elizabeth had scarcely unpacked, it took little time to return to Upton Park. She was shown to an elegant apartment in which a maid awaited to help her with her things.
Slightly before six, Elizabeth descended the stairs and was directed into the dining room by a footman.
Mrs Macy was already there, at a table set for two, and motioned her to sit.
The soup was served as soon as Elizabeth was in place.
She could not help but note the fine china and newly polished silver.
After the soup was cleared and the next course had been served, Mrs Macy spoke. “Mrs Darcy, you have entrusted me with your secrets, and now I shall beg your leave to entrust you with mine.”
Elizabeth nodded her understanding.
Mrs Macy dismissed the serving girl and began her tale. “I was raised Miss Amelia Carter, the only child of a very wealthy man who owned and operated a successful wool and textile business.”
At the sight of Elizabeth’s surprise, she nodded, smiling. “That is right. My father was in trade. He worked very diligently that I might have the life I was privileged to lead.
“I was about your age, perhaps a little younger, when I caught the eye of Mr Arthur Macy, a handsome young gentleman just a few years older than myself. We met in a park. He was with his friends, and I was with mine. We fell in love just that quickly, and soon we were engaged.
“His family did not like the match. He had already inherited this estate; otherwise, I believe they would have cut him off. As it was, they would not associate with us, nor would they acknowledge the marriage.
“We cared not. We were in love and needed only each other, and that was how it was for nearly twenty years. Unfortunately, Arthur had a weak heart, and when he was only five and forty, it proved to be his end. I was left a widow of only one and forty. We had never been blessed with children, so I was then quite alone, and so have I been these last thirty years altogether. I have been without him now for far longer than I was with him, yet not a day goes by that I do not think of him and miss him dearly.”
The lady took a sip of her wine. “Here is the bit where I shall need your secrecy. Despite my years, I am hearty and strong. My teeth are my own, I hear as well as I ever did, and I still enjoy a daily stroll around my gardens no matter what the weather. However, my doctor tells me I am suffering from a disease of the mind.”
“Of the mind?”
“Yes.” The lady pronounced it firmly with no feeling or emotion.
“My wit is destined to leave me. It could take years, it could take months, but it will eventually kill me, and there is nothing to be done for it.
Of course, the cousins who stand to inherit this estate are licking their chops.
I have no doubt whatsoever that it has galled them to see me sitting here alone in this huge house all these years, but I do not care.
They will receive their inheritance when I die and not a moment sooner.
“I have a nurse who cares for my bodily needs, and servants to care for the house.
What I realised I needed was someone to take care of me.
Someone I can trust to ensure I am not shipped off to Bedlam by greedy relatives.
A genteel person who will provide the sort of care I might have received from a daughter or granddaughter.
My household, too, will need looking after, someone who can reassure them and provide for them when I am gone.
“I am likely presuming a great deal to put such a thing on a girl I met but this morning. However, I believe you need me just as much as I need you.”
Suddenly it all made sense to Elizabeth, and she thanked Providence for leading her to this place.
The next day, Elizabeth awoke before dawn.
Sitting up, she looked around her, feeling, for the first time in many months, safety and comfort.
Alas, with thoughts of survival abated, her other thoughts and griefs could assault her, and she bent over in her bed, pulling her knees up and resting her forehead against them that she might have some support while she wept.
She wept and wept and wept until she could weep no more.
Sobs tore from her chest, and she shook with grief and agony.
Her nose began to run, and her eyes swelled and turned red.
The handkerchief she had pulled from her night table grew soaked with her tears, so she used the corner of the counterpane to deal with the rest. Finally, she ran out of tears and sat for a moment gasping for breath, winded by the exertion required for the release of her pain.
Then she rose, washed her face and hands, and sat down at the dressing table to have a talk with herself.
“You, Lizzy Bennet, are not the sort who is formed for ill humour. Yes, I could bemoan him and curse him and behave like a lady in a novel, but that is not me. I wish to be happy, and so shall I be, and if it is a different sort of happy from what I imagined, then so be it. He will be forgotten.”
What had come before was now nothing but a dream, and she would create a new life in its place.
She had much to be thankful for, she reminded herself.
A beautiful place to live, a kindly lady to serve, a baby on the way: Bennet if a boy, Jane if a girl.
Of those things alone, would she allow herself to think.