Chapter 9 Relative Transition #2
“I believe it is more of a lilac color, Mama.” Mary’s technical correction was ignored, thanks to Kitty’s outburst.
“Did you see their new nightclothes?” Grabbing one of Jane’s flimsy nightdresses off the bed, she held it against her body and began prancing about the room in what she deemed a seductive manner. “Ooh! Mr. Bingley, look at how pretty I am! Now, Mr. Darcy, stop staring at me like that! Oh la la!”
Lizzy gave up hiding in the wardrobe. Figuring it was impossible to postpone the inevitable, she widened her eyes in mock innocence and directly addressed her mother.
“Our Aunt Gardiner was of the opinion that undergarments should be visibly appealing, especially for a new bride. In fact, she spoke at length and in meticulous detail of the positive reception derived from wearing them. It is, as you have taught us, Mama, our duty to be obedient wives and please our husbands. Thankfully, we now know, with Aunt’s adamant assurance and education, that we too shall reap the rewards.
Something to anticipate, I think. Don’t you? ”
Jane’s mouth dropped open and face flushed a magnificent shade of red. Kitty collapsed onto the floor, laughing but also watching for Mrs. Bennet’s reaction. Even Mary was captivated, her eyes uncharacteristically soft and fingers absently stroking the silk chemise lying in her lap.
To their surprise, Mrs. Bennet did not launch into a contradictory lecture.
Instead, her cheeks tinted pink and her eyes grew misty, as one hand tremulously patted the skin over her heart.
Mouth opening and closing several times, she finally murmured, “Well…I daresay, my sister is a wise woman. It was kind of her to offer advice in…this area. Yes…I… Well now, look here, we have filled most of the boxes! I shall see if we have more…and perhaps some refreshments as well? Yes, and tea, strong tea, would do me…us, good. Indeed…”
Whatever else Mrs. Bennet had to say was inaudible as she scurried from the room.
Oh, how difficult it was not to burst into laughter!
Avoiding eye contact, each of them called upon inner stores of restraint.
A handful of breathy snickers was the only sound for a while as they attacked the project with fresh vigor.
The conversation gradually resumed, starting with a few questions regarding a particular article of clothing or which box to use.
Soon the foursome veered into silliness and laughter augmented by the frequent finding of a long-forgotten, buried object sparking remembrances of youthful shenanigans.
Intermixed with the merriment were the inevitable discussions about the wedding and future lives of the engaged pair.
“Has Mr. Darcy’s aunt found a lady’s maid for you, Lizzy?” Mary asked at one point.
“Ooh la! Fancy Mrs. Darcy to have a fancy lady’s maid.” Kitty mimed fussing with her hair, face set in a comically arrogant expression. “Shall I wear the taffeta or the silk? The mink or the ermine? Oh! And what jewels shall I choose?”
Laughing, Lizzy tossed a pillow at Kitty’s head, for all the good it did.
Kitty brushed the projectile aside without the slightest hiccup in her improvisations.
Ignoring her, Lizzy addressed Mary. “Lady Matlock received the names of three experienced maids from women of her acquaintance, all with excellent recommendations. Mr. Darcy has instructed Mrs. Reynolds, the Pemberley housekeeper, to interview each one. I shall leave it up to Mrs. Reynolds to decide. The whole procedure is alien to me, and a bit uncomfortable, to be honest.”
“Mr. Bingley suggested I do the same. I would prefer keeping Betsy with me, as she is skilled at coiffure, but she would be miserable away from Longbourn. I have asked Lady Lucas for advice in the matter.” Jane spoke in her usual imperturbable manner, but her downcast eyes and the pinch of pink to her cheeks were revealing.
Assistance in dressing and styling one’s hair was a necessity of life, of course, so employing a lady’s maid was not the cause of their disquiet.
Rather, it was the significance in facing another major change.
For as long as they could remember, the Bennet females had primarily relied on each other to lace stays, fasten the unreachable buttons, fix unruly hair, get advice for which shoes or bonnet matched best, and so on.
Even with Betsy’s talent with hair, and the maid Kay’s eye for fashion, it was to a sibling they typically turned, never realizing how the daily routines tightened their bonds of unity.
Pausing in her theatrics, Kitty asked Jane, “Did Lady Lucas have any suggestions? If not, Tilly Watson told me that she heard the draper’s daughter, Gertrude, say that Mrs. Goulding is unhappy with her personal maid.
You know how she is, complaining loudly the whole time she was in the store, Gertie said, and then never did buy a thing!
The poor servant is probably a delightful person who would jump at the chance to escape that harridan. ”
“Kitty, for once I shall not scold for your bad judgment in listening to village gossip.”
Beaming at Lizzy’s praise, Kitty then turned to stick her tongue out at the frowning Mary.
Ignoring that exchange, Lizzy went on, “Jane, if half of what Kitty said is true, and knowing Mrs. Goulding it is, you would be performing a service to humanity by snatching the maid away.”
“You have a valid point,” Jane hesitantly agreed.
“I can ask Lady Lucas if she is aware of the situation.” Lizzy lifted her brows at Jane’s generous statement.
Lady Lucas was renowned as the worst gossip in the area.
Not a whisper of local news escaped her hearing.
“How about the choices on the list from Lady Matlock? Any whom strike your fancy?”
Lizzy smiled, aware that the question was more to divert the topic away from gossip or Lady Lucas.
Indulging Jane’s need for politesse, even as she darted a glance toward Kitty, weighing what response there would be from her, Lizzy admitted, “All three have impeccable references and considerable experience, but my interest was piqued by the one William also favored. A Frenchwoman named Marguerite Charbaneau.”
Predictably, from Kitty, “Ugh! The French. They are so pompous. I can’t imagine this Marguerite would be any fun.”
“A lady’s maid is not there to be entertaining, Kitty.
” Mary shook her head, then reminded her, “The French design the clothing you fawn over the most. Why you have plates from Costume Parisien plastered all over your wall, most so scandalous I cannot bear to look at them! Like it or not, the French are the reigning masters of both fashion and cuisine. Does Mr. Darcy employ a French chef, Lizzy?”
“I honestly do not know. I’ve not asked. The food was delicious, I can attest to that. The best I’ve ever tasted, in fact.”
“Mr. Darcy probably insisted on the very best dishes while you were there, no matter who the cook is. After all, he was in love with you already. If Lydia hadn’t gone and tried to elope, you would probably already be married to him.”
Kitty’s offhand comment was truer than she knew, and a topic best avoided. Jane apparently agreed, hastily but smoothly interjecting. “Lizzy, that reminds me. Did you finally finish the questionnaire from Mrs. Reynolds that Mr. Darcy gave you?”
Laughing, Lizzy nodded. “I did. It wasn’t an intensive interrogation as much as a welcome letter expressing her pleasure at our engagement and promise to aid in my transition into the household.
The questions were basic queries about my food preferences and aversions, any specific requests to improve my comfort, favorite flowers, that sort of thing. She is so sweet to be concerned.”
“There! I believe those are the last, Lizzy, unless you have others stashed in unusual places.” Mary stepped back from the empty bookcase and gestured toward the five large boxes stacked in front of her.
“I never noticed that your book collection was so huge. Do you really need to take all of these? I thought the library at Pemberley was enormous and well stocked.”
“Oh, it is, believe me. In fact, there is more than one library at Pemberley.” At the intrigued expressions worn by Jane and Mary—Kitty was paying no heed to what was, in her mind, a boring subject—Lizzy elaborated.
“The main library is, indeed, enormous and two-stories high. There is a curving staircase at either corner of the far end, and access doors from both levels. It is…” She sighed dreamily, her eyes faraway.
“…absolutely beautiful. Oh! How you and Papa will love it, Mary!”
While not the passionate lover of all books, as Lizzy and Mr. Bennet, Mary read steadily, albeit with a narrower scope of interest. She would greatly enjoy exploring the Pemberley library, of that Lizzy was confident.
The unknown was when her family would make the journey to her soon-to-be residence.
Preferring to remain in the present, Lizzy went on, “Attached to the main library, on the first-floor level, is the second library. The Darcys have been collecting books for generations, meaning some are of inestimable worth. For this reason, they are segregated, and the door is kept locked.”
“Did you see inside?”
Lizzy smiled at Mary’s awe and enthusiasm, remembering that she had felt the same when Mr. Darcy had shown her the room while visiting that August past. As captured as she had been by the rows upon rows of books, many so ancient they were under glass, she had been acutely aware of his warmly glowing blue eyes resting upon her. The memory brought tingles to her skin.