Chapter 28
A hot bath and a strong cup of tea soothed Elizabeth’s rattled nerves, but they could not do much for her hangover.
Her head pounded like a drum and her stomach was sour.
She kept the curtains drawn and a hot flannel over her forehead.
The maid who refilled the hot water was unusually attentive, and Elizabeth was amazed to see a shy smile on her face.
It seemed that the dismissal of Miss Crocker had made the staff warm up to their new mistress.
“Can you bring Mrs. Reynolds here, please?” Lizzie croaked, gesturing for the maid to hand her a towel. The woman smiled again, bobbed a curtsey, and hurried away.
Elizabeth had made it to the fire by the time the housekeeper arrived.
Getting dressed had been too monumental a task, so she simply wrapped the bath sheet around herself and snuggled into the comfortable chair.
When Mrs. Reynolds knocked on the door she winced, and when the woman came in, she asked her to sit in the opposite chair.
“Looking up hurts my eyes.” she explained feebly.
“I saw the broken glass.” the housekeeper replied, not missing a beat. “That was well done.”
“Not really.” Lizzie bit her lip, “It was almost empty by the time I threw it.”
Saying that made her feel suddenly, hopelessly sad.
She had gone to Darcy’s room to help him and had just made everything worse.
He had already been drinking when she arrived, but had she stopped him?
No, she had goaded and bullied him and acted just as stupidly as he did.
She groaned and ground the heel of her hand against her forehead.
Mrs. Reynolds tapped her fingers idly on the arm of her chair, “Madam, should I send for a glass of milk? I know a hangover when I see one.”
“Do you know where Darcy is?” Lizzie blurted out. The housekeeper gave her a gentle frown.
“He is by the lake, ma’am.”
“Heading into town?” She pressed urgently, fearing the worst. Mrs. Reynolds shook her head.
“No, ma’am. Just walking. Around and around the lake. Oh, he got my clean floor muddy when he went to sit with Georgiana. Then he went straight back out again. I suppose you know why?”
Elizabeth twisted her hands together and finally met Mrs. Reynolds’ eyes. She felt like an utter failure next to this woman who would do anything to help her beloved master.
“I am so, so sorry.” she croaked, “Nothing went the way it was supposed to. He was already drunk by the time I arrived, and he was furious at me.”
“For sneaking into Miss Darcy’s room? Did you tell him that you have been doing it for weeks?”
Elizabeth had leaned forward to poke the fire into a blaze. When Mrs. Reynolds spoke, she clumsily dropped the iron. The loud clang it made against the tiles made her wince.
“You knew?”
“I know about everything that goes on in this house, Mrs. Darcy. Well, almost everything. Would you like to tell me what happened last night?”
It was phrased as a question, but Elizabeth heard it as an instruction.
It was clear that Mrs. Reynolds was determined to know the truth.
Lizzie did not resent her for it; the woman cared deeply for her master and only wanted to help him.
Her implacable curiosity made Lizzie smile.
If she said nothing, then they might well see the housekeeper peering through the bedroom window next time.
Next time. She blushed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Naturally, Mrs. Reynolds’ sharp eyes noticed the defensive gesture. Her eyebrows shot up in alarm.
“You said he was angry, ma’am.” she lowered her voice to a tiny whisper, “Did he strike you, as you feared?”
“No. It wasn’t that kind of anger. He was so desperately hurt, Mrs. Reynolds. He wanted to hurt himself, just like Georgiana did.”
The housekeeper sat bolt upright, her voice suddenly harsh like a lioness protecting its cub. “What do you know about Miss Darcy?”
“Only that it wasn’t an accident.”
Mrs. Reynolds looked away. Her shoulders slumped, and her fidgeting fingers sank deeply into the soft padding on the chair. She respected Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth realised, but she loved Georgiana. Combing her fingers through her damp curls, Lizzie fell silent and waited for the other woman to recover.
Mrs. Reynolds said softly, “Tell me about my master, Mrs. Darcy, and I shall tell you about Miss Darcy.”
Elizabeth pillowed her head wearily against her hand and spoke formally: “Mrs. Reynolds, I hold you in high regard. I shall not barter secrets from you under such duress. Tell me about Miss Darcy when you are ready. I will willingly tell you what happened yesterday.”
Mrs. Reynolds gave her the pleased, approving look which Elizabeth had learned to cherish. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Elizabeth smiled, took a deep breath, and started. She stared into the fire while she spoke. The heat it spilled onto on her face did much to steady her nerves, since she could not feel the burning blush that her story raised.
She told Mrs. Reynolds the start, and how she had broken the decanter. That would have been enough, but Lizzie pushed forwards and told her everything.
“I ought not to have goaded him, I know. I only made things worse.” she finished. To her surprise, Darcy’s most loyal servant shook her head.
“No, my dear. I think you were quite right. You made him feel foolish! That man can ignore most insults with the indifference of a statue, but he cannot bear to be thought a fool. Especially by one he respects as much as you, ma’am.”
“I don’t see how can respect me anymore, Mrs. Reynolds. I behaved terribly. Shamefully.” Lizzie laughed humourlessly, “I suppose I must have finally convinced him that I am no angel, at least.”
Mrs. Reynolds looked away, blushing. The high colour made her look youthful despite her greying hair.
“Madam, did you know that the title ‘Mrs.’ is used as an honorific for housekeepers? It is only right that you know that I have never been married. I am, however, fully aware of what transpires between a man or a woman - or even several women, if the gossips from other households are to be believed.”
“Several?” Elizabeth exclaimed. The concept of such an arrangement was far beyond her. “How?”
The other lady shrugged, smiling crookedly.
“Since your husband is unlikely to make such a request of you, ma’am, it is probably best that I do not answer that question.
I shall not muddy the water. My point is that, although I am rather too aware of the logistics of congress, I have no experience of it myself. ”
“Then you and I are opposites.” Lizzie sighed, “Mama told me no logistics at all. I daresay she intended to, but she was furious with me by the time I was engaged. She barely spoke to me at all until the eve of my wedding, and only then to say that I did not deserve to enjoy it.”
“I cannot comment on your mother’s character, madam, but I fear she did you a disservice. You should have known what to expect.”
“I admit that it was rather… surprising.” Lizzie blushed, “But it was not unpleasant.”
“I am glad that your mother’s wishes came to nothing.” Mrs. Reynolds teased, enjoying making her mistress go even pinker. Now even her ears were blushing.
The next few words Elizabeth said were not embarrassed, however, but grave: “I fear that it was unpleasant for him. He left before I awoke and has avoided me all day.”
Mrs. Reynolds leaned forward and caught Elizabeth’s hand. “You must remember that Mr. Darcy was drunk. No doubt he is as hungover as you and will be mourning the loss of his sobriety.”
“I only wish I knew for sure.” Elizabeth looked down at their joined hands for a moment, then freed hers to wipe away an errant tear, “He apologised afterwards. He looked so unhappy, Mrs. Reynolds. I don’t understand.”
“Mrs. Darcy, it is highly unusual for a man to resent the act. If you are so worried, then you must ask your husband outright.”
“Ask him? About this?” Elizabeth looked scandalised, and her blush spread all the way down her neck.
Mrs. Reynolds hid a smile, but it was laced with pity. Sometimes she forgot how very young her mistress was. Mrs. Darcy gave off an air of such composure that she might have been much older than her twenty-one years. Now, however, she looked like a naive adolescent.
“No harm has been done, dear.” Mrs. Reynolds squeezed her hand and then helped her stand up. “Now, let me look after you.”
With the remarkable speed she had for such tasks, the servant managed to find a nightgown and shake it out. She cleared her throat pointedly beside the bed until Elizabeth climbed between the sheets. Dazed, she let Mrs. Reynolds pull the nightgown over her head like a child.
“This is really not necessary…”
“Hush, girl. Er… ma’am. You must sleep. You look quite exhausted. When you wake up, all of this will feel much easier.”
Elizabeth nodded, but standing up had given her a surge of energy. As she cuddled down into her enticing pillow she looked questioningly at the housekeeper.
“What of Georgiana? Is she well?”
“The doctor will be here tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I am caring for Miss Darcy myself, and I shall return to her now.” Mrs. Reynolds hesitated, then reached up to kiss Elizabeth’s forehead. “Rest now, my dear. All will be well, you’ll see.”