Chapter 15
Elizabeth Darcy stood in the centre of her bedroom and closed her eyes. Slowly, she stretched out her arms as far as they would go, like two wings ready to take flight. Then she turned around, circle after circle, keeping her eyes tightly shut.
This could be any room. She had spun in all of them.
As a child, it had been a game. She would see how many times she could spin quickly around until, breathless and dizzy, she would topple to the floor. When she was older it became a ritual: a way to burn off her nervous energy before a gathering, or to draw in a deep breath afterwards.
In Kendal, she had done it to force herself to feel vulnerable.
Her emotions had made the world grey. She needed to clear the fog away and could not find any other way to do it.
Happiness was still too much of a stranger to heed her plaintive invitation.
Other emotions soon came to turn the clouds into blazing daylight: confusion, when she felt lost inside her strange new life.
Gentle hope for the future. Fear, still burning like a guilty secret, against him.
Yes, she was still afraid. She knew the man better, was even fond of him, but his shadow always followed.
She loved his tenderness, but she was afraid of his sullen hours and his furious minutes.
She could not conquer the changeability which made her care for him with one breath, and pity him the next.
Guiltiest of all was her darkest fear: she was afraid of his fists, always clenched when he was angry, always trembling when he was trying to keep calm.
They had never been raised against her. When Darcy was calm and amiable she knew that he would never hurt her.
When he was angry, she was afraid that he had not hurt her… yet.
On the evening when she had told the staff to take the liquor out of his room, Darcy had frightened her so badly that she wanted him to drink.
She was on the point of running after the servants and snatching a bottle of brandy out of their hands.
At least then the demon would be gone from his eyes.
The drunkard she had met beneath the tree was pathetic and as threatening as a lamb.
As she spun, Elizabeth scrutinised her emotions and sighed. Yes, she was afraid. Afraid, lonely, and homesick.
Lizzie turned another slow circle and let herself dream. This could be her old room with the creaking bed and the chipped table where Lydia had thrown her wooden doll. Home…
Home, with her grasping mother and her blind father. Home, where happiness was just something to be thrown away. Home…
Elizabeth wrenched her eyes open, swallowing hard. The housekeeper stared back at her. Lizzie gasped in shock and lowered her arms.
“Don’t you knock?” she demanded, trying to catch her breath.
“I did, Mrs. Darcy. Several times. You didn’t answer, so I thought you were asleep. I have your boxes, ma’am.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, this time in embarrassment, and then shook herself. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
The servant’s pinched expression relaxed. Her voice grew noticeably warmer. “Do not trouble yourself, madam. I will tell the footmen to wait.”
“No - no. They can bring the boxes.”
“They can wait.” Mrs. Reynolds repeated firmly. Drawing a handkerchief from her sleeve, she pressed it into Elizabeth’s hand. Lizzie stared at it without comprehension, then looked up and caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Was that her? The famous beauty, Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Her eyes were shadowed and her skin was pasty. Her shoulders stooped. Even her hair looked pitiful: it was a hopeless frizz after the long journey. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her lips trembled.
This is how Jane looked, at the end. Elizabeth realised with horror.
She felt a jolt striking her in the belly.
Now they both knew how it felt to live in fear.
The signs had been written so clearly on her sister’s body, and now they were etched just as clearly onto her own.
No wonder Mr. Darcy had called her unhappy.
“Mrs. Reynolds, I…” Elizabeth faltered and then limped into the rest of her sentence: “Thank you.”
The servant made no reply, only rested her hand on her mistress’s shoulder and guided her to the fire.
Elizabeth let herself be settled into a comfortable chair.
The fire was promptly prodded into a blaze, a lap blanket expertly draped over her legs, and a hot cup of tea produced from seemingly nowhere.
Mrs. Reynolds managed to be both motherly and efficient.
Between producing endless handkerchiefs and unlacing Lizzie’s boots, she calmly chatted on about banal, cheerful matters.
Then, when she was sure that her mistress was quite collected, she sent for the boxes and directed the footmen to place them about the room.
Elizabeth began to cheer up at the sight.
The footmen were surly and peered at her in a way she disliked, but they acted more professionally than any other servant she had ever seen.
Mrs. Reynolds sent the men scurrying about so quickly that it was like a dance, and at the end of it everything was in a perfect place to be unpacked without tiring her out.
“Shall we begin?” Mrs. Reynolds asked, looking around the room approvingly.
“Begin?”
“Yes, madam. I shall help you unpack. Which box would you like me to open first?”
“Oh! But you are the housekeeper. You do not have to… that is to say, surely a ladies’ maid…?”
Mrs. Reynolds thought of her staff and the sour smirks on their faces.
She had not missed the coldness in the air when the carriage arrived and knew she would need to be firm with them.
Whatever they thought about their new mistress was clearly unfair, but they had not had the chance to speak to Mrs. Darcy, as she had.
It would take them time to warm up to her, and in the meantime, she couldn’t risk sending them to attend upon their new mistress alone.
They would be professional, of course, but aloof and uncomforting.
That was not what Mrs. Darcy needed. She had never seen a lady more in need of a hug.
Saving her mistress’s pride, she said, “I have yet to select one, Mrs. Darcy. I had no notion of your preference and would not even advertise for such a post without you.”
Elizabeth realised that her jaw had dropped. It seemed rather strange to be deferred to by such a composed woman. She suspected that Mrs. Reynolds could have found the best maid in England by herself. Possibly even the best maid in Europe.
“Thank you, you are very considerate. I am glad of your guidance, Mrs. Reynolds. I just did not want to interfere with the running of the house.”
“Pish.” the woman muttered, spreading her hands to signify the whole house.
“Mrs. Darcy, you may interfere as much as you wish. Indeed, I would prefer it if you did! We have been without a mistress for a long time, and I dare say we could use a little shaking up. But we can speak of that tomorrow. Now, I think, you would like to have a hot bath while I unpack your boxes. Then I imagine you would like a nourishing meal brought up on a tray. Is that right, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth had not considered either of those things, but she dared not argue with this formidable woman.
She nodded like a puppet dangling from clumsy fingers.
Mrs. Reynolds looked serenely back at her, hands folded in front of her apron.
By the expectant look on the housekeeper’s face, Lizzie realised that she was awaiting the order.
“Oh. Um, Mrs. Reynolds, please have a bath made up for me at once. I prefer lavender, if you have any.”
“Very good, ma’am. I am sure we can find some. What would you like for your supper?”
“I don’t want to be a bother. What are the servants eating? I can have some of that.”
“Bother, madam! Mrs. Pompey is waiting with bated breath for your first meal. She will make you anything you require, and gladly.”
Elizabeth wilted. “I will be sorry to disappoint her. I would be content with a few slices of toast. Carriage journeys make me lose my appetite. Please apologise to Mrs. Pompey for me. Tell her I shall meet with her tomorrow to discuss menus for the week.”
Mrs. Reynolds raised an approving eyebrow. “Very good, ma’am.”
“And please send my apologies to my husband. Tell him I have retired early. I… I…” excuses failed her, and she looked wretchedly back at the mirror. “I do not want him to see me like this.”
“No apology will be necessary, madam. Mr. Darcy has already given orders that he is not to be disturbed. I dare say we will not see him until morning.”
Lizzie bit her lip, “Yes, I should have… have guessed. He was very eager to see his sister.”
“What has he told you about Miss Darcy, madam?” Mrs. Reynold’s voice was suddenly blunt.
Elizabeth looked at her in surprise, but for the first time the servant let etiquette go hang.
“I have known the master since he was a boy, ma’am.
I helped raise him and his sister from when they were knee-high.
I respect them both greatly, Mrs. Darcy - but I know that the master can be quite reserved. ”
“Reserved? Is that what you call it?” Lizzie could not disguise the bitterness in her own voice.
“I know nothing of this house at all. Just… platitudes. Do not think I missed the way the servants stared at me! I do not know you, and you do not know me. All I know is Mr. Darcy, and it seems he has kept many secrets from both of us.”
The housekeeper planted her hands on her hips like a disgruntled governess and spoke boldly.
“Mrs. Darcy, may I speak plainly to you? Until a year ago, the master was a gentleman in every respect. He was a generous employer, an intelligent manager, and a loving brother. He was never harsh without cause, nor cruel to anyone who had not wronged him. I do not think he had any duplicity in his soul.”
“Until a year ago.” Elizabeth reminded her, “Mrs. Reynolds, surely you must know about his behaviour in Meryton?”
The older woman nodded. “Mind you, he never brought any of it home with him. Twice, he came home to see Miss Darcy, and there wasn’t a smell of liquor on him. But his hands had the shakes, and he was dreadfully sallow.”
“What of his mood?”
“Much altered. I hoped it was mostly concern for his sister, but I knew it wasn’t true. It wouldn’t account for the impatience, the temper…”
“Yes, I have seen his temper.” Elizabeth shuddered, “He has ceased drinking, Mrs. Reynolds, but the urges are still as strong as the day he stopped. He confided that in me. He was so vulnerable that it made me weep… and an hour later he was so angry that I was afraid. He changes like the wind, and I do not know how to help him.”
Mrs. Reynolds stared at her. The older woman’s throat worked, as if she was swallowing back tears, but her professional stoicism served her well. The look she gave Elizabeth was that of a mother trying to hide her own pain for the sake of a crying child.
“You are in a difficult position, Mrs. Darcy. All I can say is that he hasn’t always been like that. God willing, now that he has stopped drinking, he will return to us.”
“God willing.” Lizzie agreed fervently, reaching out to grasp the housekeeper’s sleeve, “But what if he does not?”
“I don’t know. But… I don’t think you have any reason to be afraid of the master, ma’am.
His letter about you was very considerate.
He was most insistent that you be treated well.
He made sure, madam, that you would not need to defer to him for anything.
You have a most generous allowance, and no limitations on the household accounts.
Your every comfort has been thought of. It was not the letter of an uncaring man, Mrs. Darcy. ”
“I know that he cares for me, Mrs. Reynolds. At least, when his mind is clear.”
“There was another detail, madam: your rooms are placed far enough from the master’s that you need never see each other. I can move you to another suite easily, if you would rather change that.”
“To… be further away?”
“I was thinking more about closer, madam.” Mrs. Reynolds said.
She was not a conniving woman, but the relationship between this lady and her master was utterly baffling. This was the only way she could think of to get a real answer. So, she was most gratified when Mrs. Darcy confided in her.
“We are married in name only, Mrs. Reynolds. He wishes me to help his sister, that is all. I will accept any arrangements Mr. Darcy has made. I am sure that he thought about them very deeply. He is quite taken up with propriety, after all.”
After that, recognising in Mrs. Reynolds both an ally and a sympathetic ear, Lizzie quickly described the circumstances of her marriage.
Relating her husband’s kindness to his loyal housekeeper made her feel churlish.
She had criticised him so savagely just a few minutes before.
She blushed at the hypocrisy and was about to apologise when Mrs. Reynolds stopped her.
“I am glad,” she said, “That you got to see a little of the man he used to be.”
Elizabeth smiled weakly, “Yes. He is trying so desperately to be that man again. He is exhausted.”
“As are you, madam. But you are home now - and I shall help you.”
Turning to ring the bell, Mrs. Reynolds abruptly stopped and looked back. “You are his equal, Mrs. Darcy. You are not his servant; you are his wife. Do not let him frighten you anymore. If he tries it, tell him he is not too grown up for me to box his ears!”
The housekeeper chuckled and disappeared before the stunned Elizabeth could reply.
Before the servants came back with her bath water, Elizabeth Darcy stood in the centre of the room and stretched her arms out like wings. The fog drew back, and there were the emotions once more. Worry, homesickness, and fear.
Fear was welcome. You had to feel fear before you could vanquish it, and Elizabeth was determined to let hers burn.
Lizzie stared in the mirror and saw the fire in her eyes.
I am Mrs. Darcy, and I am his equal.
I am Mrs. Darcy, and I am not afraid of anyone.