Chapter 13
Mrs. Reynolds was rarely surprised. Her life was a fixed routine of timetables and management. It was predictable and comforting. Sometimes, she even had the opportunity for pleasant reflection.
Pemberley had been her home for decades.
She cherished every hour of it. There were ups and downs, of course.
She had watched the young master and mistress grow…
and watched them shrink. But such things happened, and were overcome in the end.
She was patient, sensible, and her quiet determination had made just as much difference to the Darcys as their own silly schemes.
While other housekeepers scorned passivity, hungry for the busy renown of large gatherings and glamorous balls, Mrs. Reynolds was at ease in a quiet house.
She liked the steady passage of time, and relished only the small suspense of an unexpected visitor.
In fact, the house was so well managed that such a stranger would have been appointed a room and a footman even before they reached the end of the drive.
The servants were obedient, just as comfortable with their quiet lives, and had very few squabbles to mediate. The master was generous and had given them whole days (not half days!) and leave to explore the estate at their leisure. When the house was empty, the servants could even go to bed early.
Their only serious task was to look after Miss Darcy, for all the good it could do.
The doctor had urged them to hire a nursemaid-companion, and the woman he had sent was more trouble than ten rowdy gentlemen combined.
She was irascible, greedy and demanding, and wheedled a great many luxuries ‘for dear Miss Darcy’.
Mrs. Reynolds detested her but had no authority to replace her.
The doctor only saw her pleasant face, and Mr. Darcy was the only one who could oppose that goodly man.
Until the master returned, Miss Crocker knew that she was safe. And oh, how she abused that!
But, still, it was predictable. Mrs. Reynolds could manage it calmly, and Mrs. Reynolds was rarely surprised.
When the letter arrived, she had to sit down and have a strong cup of tea.
The master was coming home! This was pleasant news by itself. He had been away for months, only dropping in for a few fleeting days to see his sister. This meant that matters of the estate could not be raised, and he certainly had no cause to seek out his loyal housekeeper.
This time would be different. The letter spoke of a prolonged stay - indeed, it sounded as if the master was going to stay in his home indefinitely.
He would be in Pemberley for long enough to return to his duties.
Not just the administrative concerns which he had managed from afar, but the actual tasks of the estate.
Perhaps he would even fire the awful Miss Crocker!
Mrs. Reynolds allowed herself a wry chuckle. Now that would be a miracle.
She continued reading and came across a section which puzzled her exceedingly.
Mr. Darcy gave directions for a suite of rooms to be made available for a young lady.
He was very particular about them. They were not to be guest rooms, but family rooms in the East Wing.
The only family member Mrs. Reynolds could think of who would make such a demand was Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who was definitely not young!
No, she had no idea who the lady could be.
The most perplexing instruction was yet to come:
The suite should be close to mine, but not so near as to intrude upon her privacy. If her desire is to be further away from me, then you must ensure she is moved without delay. Pray ready other rooms in case this occurs. When she arrives, she will make her wishes known.
How incomprehensible! Close, yet far away!
Mrs. Reynolds scoured the paragraph for any mention of other guests. A maid, perhaps, that she knew about from another household. Perhaps a chaperone. Finding no clues, she read the rest of the letter.
There it was, in black ink on white paper. The words were as plain as day:
Mrs. Darcy will wish to greet the staff on her arrival. Please ensure that they are gathered, and the house is made ready.
Mrs. Reynold’s jaw dropped. Another cup of tea was required at once! It had stewed in the pot, but she felt the warmth chasing the shock from her veins.
Mrs. Darcy!