Chapter 61
Jane took the news with serenity. She admitted at once that she had expected it.
Such a rude intrusion would have been the work of both their mother and Mr. Collins - he would think of it, but not have the nerve to break decorum. Mrs. Bennet would launch herself into his crusade without thought. Between the two of them, they were bound to get up to mischief.
To Elizabeth’s utter amazement, Jane suggested that they invite both Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins to dine with them that very evening.
“There is no need to be rude ourselves.” she said with her usual sweetness, “I am sure that mama has missed us all.”
“She certainly has not…!”
“Dearest, she treats you as she does because she is angry, not because she does not love you.”
Scolded, Elizabeth eyed her older sister, “What of Mr. Collins? He deserves no invitation; he is not our guest.”
“I would rather face him now, with you beside me, than be accosted by him without warning. I imagine he plans to contrive some method to separate me from you at the ball, when there will be too much upheaval for it to be prevented. If he is aided in that by mama…”
“And Lady Catherine.”
“We do not know that, Lizzie. Mr. Collins assumes it, and so did I, but Mr. Darcy seems to think that she will be more circumspect. Mr. Bingley assures me that there is nothing to worry about from that quarter, and he knows the family well.”
Elizabeth did not remark upon the easy smile on Jane’s face when she mentioned Bingley.
Her sister’s whole manner had softened at the thought of her friend.
In that moment, Elizabeth could see none of the scars from Jane’s wretched treatment.
She truly was the beauty of Meryton, glowing like an angel and beaming like a saint.
If Bingley had not seen the remarkable effect he had on Jane, then he was a fool.
Since Caroline had left, taking her accusing eyes and sharp criticisms with her, Bingley’s last reservations had disappeared.
He made no secret of his preference for Jane.
They spent every moment they could in each other’s company.
In the mornings they stayed with Georgiana.
In the afternoons they took long walks, or read together, or did any of the other comfortable activities that passed the time.
Their evenings grew increasingly late as they were loath to go to bed, and they were always the first to come down for breakfast.
Darcy’s estimation of Bingley’s self-denial had seemed logical, but it had not lasted. At first, Elizabeth had changed the seating plan so that they would not feel any tension during dinner. Now, she knew, it was not required.
One casual thought made her heart flutter: Jane had said that Bingley had convinced her that she was safe. She trusted him so completely that his mere word was enough to chase away months of nightmares.
“Jane, if I am to invite them to dinner then we should do it properly. Let us show them Pemberley at its best. We shall have the finest food, wear our most beautiful clothes and be so grand that mama will be struck dumb. Darcy said that Mr. Collins is cowed by the splendour of Rosings Park. We shall make him just as awestruck of Pemberley.”
Jane smiled widely, “Oh, Kitty will love that! She’s been longing to wear her new blue gown. I shall tell her at once, for she will spend hours fussing over it.”
“Wait!” Elizabeth hesitated, found her nerve, and then took the plunge. “You need to go to Mr. Bingley first. I have an idea which he must agree to. I am sure that he will… if you are the one to ask.”
“What is it?” Jane asked, blushing.
“Well… if it is to be a formal dinner, it would not do for the gentlemen to walk in alone, nor the ladies to be without an escort. I shall be on Darcy’s arm, of course, and I suspect Fitzwilliam will leap at the chance to spend another evening being scolded by Mary.
I think you should be paired with Bingley. ”
Jane’s mouth fell open. “Lizzie, I cannot… I should not! Mr. Collins will think… oh, he will be so angry! And mama would… oh, poor dear Charles! They will be terrible to him!”
“Charles?” Elizabeth raised her eyebrow pointedly. Jane went bright pink.
“He is my friend, Lizzie. I would not have him discomforted when it can be easily prevented.”
“I cannot imagine that he will be uncomfortable. I do not think he notices other people when he is beside you. Would you rather be placed beside Mr. Collins, Jane?”
The older girl shook her head emphatically. “No. No, I shall go and speak to Mr. Bingley. As a friend, Lizzie, and that is all! If you keep smiling like me like that then I shall eat dinner in my room and not come down at all.”
“No, you shall not hide.” Lizzie said firmly, “Not even from my little schemes, my love. Do not hide your courage or the beautiful friendship you have with Mr. Bingley. Let mama see what real happiness looks like. I fear that she has forgotten.”
“Then she needs only look at you and Mr. Darcy.” Jane murmured mischievously.
Now it was Lizzie’s turn to blush.
They had not come down in time for breakfast once, all week.
The table was set, the seating plan arranged.
Elizabeth was just about to relax when she caught sight of the butler walking carefully into the dining room with a heavy tray.
On it, several full carafes chimed together.
The house had been free of liquor for so long that Elizabeth smelled the sharp tang at once.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, marching over, “I thought I was clear: there will be no wine served at this table!”
“It was the master’s order, sir.” The butler looked apologetic beneath his bushy black eyebrows. “I cannot disobey.”
Elizabeth reeled around, ready to run through the house and find Darcy, when she was stopped by the sight of Mrs. Reynolds.
The woman looked past her to the wine, then back at Mrs. Darcy’s white face.
With a reassuring, sympathetic smile, Mrs. Reynolds invited Elizabeth to join her for a cup of tea in her private sitting room.
This was such a rare request that Lizzie was stunned.
For a moment, her shock at seeing the wine was numbed.
Mrs. Reynolds seemed quite calm, and if she was not worried, then perhaps she knew something about it.
Following her meekly, Elizabeth barely noticed the curious looks of the other servants as they walked through their quarters.
It was almost unheard of for a housekeeper to invite the mistress into her private rooms. They were sacrosanct: a sanctuary away from the stress and hard work of the estate. Staff and masters were not welcome there, only personally-selected friends.
Elizabeth found herself in a comfortable room.
It was simply decorated but showed decided preferences for colours and designs which were not found in the house above.
There were some things that would not have looked out of place in the drawing room: a tea set, for instance, painted with bright yellow flowers.
These were doubtless gifts from Lady Anne: items that had been replaced and discarded, much like the second-hand dresses which were given to ladies’ maids.
There were rustic ornaments scattered around the room and some small watercolour paintings.
They all seemed to be done by the same hand.
Elizabeth blinked at one in fascination.
“I did not know you were an artist, Mrs. Reynolds!” she cried, “These are lovely.”
“I paint when I can spare the time.” The older woman said serenely. It was a poor attempt to hide her pleasure at being praised, but she managed it by looking stern: “Lately, madam, I have not had any chance at all.”
“I am truly sorry.” Elizabeth replied, “It has been unavoidable. Between the ball, the dower house and my sisters…”
“I do not mind the work, ma’am.” Mrs. Reynolds interrupted, “It is wonderful to see life returning to Pemberley. I trust you to give the staff a much-needed respite once the ball is over.”
Elizabeth smiled at the pointed note in the housekeeper’s voice, “I have already made arrangements for a small party of their own, and gifts to express my gratitude for their hard work. I am truly grateful for their efforts, Mrs. Reynolds - and for yours.”
The housekeeper could not keep her stern expression; she looked both amazed and proud, “You have come a long way, madam.”
Lizzie laughed, “Thank you, I have had a very good teacher.”
They sat down and, for the first time since they had met, did not speak of the house at all.
They spoke candidly of other matters. Mrs. Reynolds cut two pieces of seed cake and poured them both a cup of tea - a different blend than was served upstairs, and one which Elizabeth found delicious.
Elizabeth was utterly lulled away from her earlier shock, which was the housekeeper’s intention.
When she believed her mistress to be capable of truly listening, she changed the topic.
“You looked quite distressed when I stumbled across you,” she said gently, “Were you unaware of the master’s orders to unlock the wine cellar? I thought you had agreed, ma’am, since he had the key.”
“He has his own key.” Elizabeth explained bluntly. “He always did.”
Mrs. Reynolds’ face twisted in surprise. Elizabeth nodded ruefully and then took another swallow of tea.
“All of our schemes, Mrs. Reynolds, were for nothing! He had a key all along. I ought to feel cheated, but you know as well as I do that he was as bound by his principles as he ever was by our lock.”
“He must love you very much.”
Lizzie blinked at the sudden, unexpected and frank statement. Mrs. Reynolds waved her hand in the air in an attempt to explain her rather unprofessional outburst.