Chapter Eight #2
Kitty rushed across the room and dropped onto the bed beside Elizabeth, turning to face her. “We were mending, and then Captain Carter came by.”
Affecting a blandness expression, Elizabeth asked, “Wasn’t Captain Carter here only yesterday?”
Kitty’s cheeks turned pink. “He came back today with a set of teacups. He said some of the officers chipped in to buy them for us, but I think he may have bought them all on his own. Mama was so happy. Much happier than when Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley brought place settings, even though the teacups are from the same set.”
“I think that’s because Captain Carter’s gift stems from a much different sentiment.”
“Do you?” Kitty asked, somewhat breathless. “Do you really?”
Elizabeth did, but didn’t want to get Kitty’s hopes up too high, in case she was wrong, and so asked, “But that was earlier. Where were you all?”
“Mama sent us into town to do the shopping, because Mrs. Hill isn’t with us to do it anymore.”
As with all their senior staff, their housekeeper Mrs. Hill had found it easy to locate new employment, somewhere where she wouldn’t be squeezed in under the rafters in a cottage. “And how did that go?”
“Lydia kept trying to buy ribbons instead of food, but Mary and I insisted we’d rather eat than make sure her bonnet might match each of her gowns.”
“That seems like the more reasonable choice.”
Kitty shook her head. “It was harder than you think. Lydia said that ribbons last forever and may be used many times, by all of us, but potatoes get eaten and are gone. I thought she made a fair point, but Mary wouldn’t agree and she’s the one Mama gave the money to.”
It pleased Elizabeth that at least one of her sisters had shown sense, and that her mother had the foresight not to put money meant for food in Lydia’s hands. “If I’d been there, I should have sided with Mary.”
“I thought as much, so I didn’t protest very hard.”
Elizabeth smiled. Kitty had more sense than she let on, in her quest to remain on good terms with Lydia. “But I can hardly attribute your happiness to the successful purchase of potatoes.”
A fresh wave of pink suffused Kitty’s cheeks. “Captain Carter met us in town and escorted us back. He carried the potatoes for me, but he wouldn’t come in. They had to get back.”
“They?” Elizabeth asked sharply.
“Mr. Wickham helped, too. He carried Lydia’s packages.”
Elizabeth supposed that left Mary to carry her own. “They came all this way and then didn’t come in?”
Kitty frowned slightly. “It was a bit odd. Captain Carter seemed surprised when Wickham said they had to get back.” Her frown deepened.
“He didn’t say it until he saw that wagon out front.
The one the carpenters arrived in. He said he did not wish to interfere with our company.
” She shook her head, bemused. “As if company would arrive in a tradesman’s wagon. ”
“That does seem unlikely,” Elizabeth agreed.
Mr. Wickham, being from Derbyshire, may have recognized the wagon, but why would that recognition keep him from coming in?
More likely, he’d noted Mr. Darcy’s horse tethered near the conveyance and used the wagon as an excuse, even after telling her he’d decided not to let Mr. Darcy drive him away.
Kitty looked about the room. “Do you think Papa will ask the carpenters to do anything in here?”
Aware any chance she had of finding a quiet moment to think had ended, Elizabeth adopted a pleasant mien and stood. “I’m not certain. Let’s go down and ask.” She would have to sort out the truth behind Mr. Darcy’s relationship with Mr. Wickham another time.
The following day found Elizabeth, her sisters and both her parents in the parlor, there being few other locations in which a person could be in the little cottage.
A knock sounded and their maid, Sarah, shortly showed Mr. Murphy in.
None of his sons were in evidence, but he carried rolled up paper.
Mr. Murphy bowed to the parlor. “Can’t stay. I brought these plans Gavin drew up for the kitchen, is all. We’ll be back tomorrow to get to work on it, assuming you can decide which to use by then?”
Elizabeth’s father stood to accept the pages. “We can. Thank you for readying these so quickly.”
“Thank Gavin. He enjoys working up a new design.”
“Would you care to stay while we look them over?”
Mr. Murphy shook his head. “Don’t get many rest days. I plan to look about town. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to know your mind on the matter.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Bennet repeated and walked Mr. Murphy out.
When Elizabeth’s father returned to the parlor, he unrolled the paper and spread out three pages. Elizabeth wasn’t the only one to put aside her mending and slide to the front of her chair to study them. After a few moments study of the neat drawings, she sat back.
“They’re essentially very similar,” she observed.
Mr. Bennet gestured to the neat words at the bottom of each page, reading ‘doors,’ ‘drawers,’ and ‘shelves.’ “They’re the same, a layout he obviously feels is optimal, and with which I agree. One has more open shelves, one more drawers, and one more cabinets.”
“The one with the drawers is the most expensive,” Mary said, for each also had an estimated cost written beside the label.
“And shelves are cheap,” Lydia said with a sniff of disdain. “So, we don’t want shelves.”
“Whyever not?” Mary asked. “No one sees the kitchen but us. Why spend the money?”
“Cabinets are a good compromise.” Elizabeth leaned forward to tap the design she preferred, having only one open shelf, four drawers and the remainder of the space done with cabinets. “And they would keep dust away.”
Kitty shrugged. “We have so few dishes, they all get used every day. They don’t have time to gather dust.”
“But we’ll get more,” Lydia said. “Won’t we, Mama?”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “Even with the kitchen done, we won’t have room for much more. Shelves would make the kitchen look and feel larger, I think. Also, it would be easiest to grab a dish that is on an open shelf.”
They went on like this for some time, discussing the merits of shelves, cabinets, and drawers.
How many lockable cabinets were required for such essentials as tea, spices, and sugar.
If space on a countertop could be put to better use than cabinets that reached fully from ceiling to floor.
Mr. Bennet argued for more doors and Mrs. Bennet for more shelves.
Lydia and Kitty wanted drawers, Lydia deeming the most expensive option the best for, insofar as Elizabeth could see, no practical reason.
Elizabeth and Mary sided with their father.
Once the discussion finally tapered off and everyone’s final vote was cast, Mr. Bennet said, “I have heard all of your opinions and made my decision.” Amusement sparked in his eyes. “Would any of you care to guess what that might be?”
“More cabinets,” Mrs. Bennet said bitterly.
Mr. Bennet turned a thoughtful look on his wife. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it is your decision, and you and Lizzy want cabinets.”
Elizabeth flushed slightly, hurt for her mother, who felt Elizabeth’s opinion meant more to Mr. Bennet than his wife’s. And hurt for Mary, whose opinion Mrs. Bennet seemed not to count at all or think Mr. Bennet would count.
“He’ll choose more cabinets because they’re what the most of us want,” Mary said, voice a touch sullen. “Three votes to two, to one.”
Kitty looked between Mary, their father, and their mother. “I suppose that’s fair.”
As usual, the distress he caused his wife and daughters didn’t dim Mr. Bennet’s amusement with whatever game he played. Cheerfully, he said, “Fair or not, the answer is more shelves.”
“More shelves?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed.
Mr. Bennet nodded. “Yes. It is your kitchen, after all.”
“Then why did you have us all discuss it and vote?” Lydia protested.
“I wanted your mother to listen to other opinions and have the opportunity to change her mind.”
Elizabeth watched her mother’s expression change from shocked to satisfied, and realized her own features surely revealed her surprise.
A kitchen made up of mostly open shelves seemed ridiculous.
What was her father thinking, siding with their mother?
Elizabeth took in her mother’s happy mien and tried to understand why her father had suddenly become so supportive of Mrs. Bennet.
When the Murphys arrived the next day, they brought their wagon around back, near the kitchen door.
Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth went out to meet them and convey their decision on the kitchen.
Elizabeth’s younger sisters, with no protest, had already settled into the parlor with their sewing.
They’d become accustomed to the task, and to having it interrupted by welcome callers.
When he heard their decision, Mr. Murphy said, “Shelves are the best choice to get your kitchen in order. They’re quickest and easiest, and cabinet doors can always be added later.”
All three of his sons nodded along to that. Mrs. Bennet seemed to glow with the praise, casting a look at Mr. Bennet, as if to gauge his reaction to the quality of her choice.
Mr. Murphy gestured to his son, Gavin. “If you don’t mind, while the three of us get started in there, I’ll have Gavin draw up some possibilities for other rooms.”
“Certainly,” Mr. Bennet said.
Tentatively, Mrs. Bennet asked, “May I suggest some adjustments to the plan for the kitchen?”
“It’s your kitchen,” Mr. Murphy replied, unconsciously echoing Mr. Bennet’s sentiment of the day before. “We’ll get our slates and measuring tape and you can show us what you’d like.”
Gavin stepped forward. “Is there anyone to spare to give me a more detailed idea of what’s needed in the other rooms? I know we toured them yesterday, but we didn’t discuss what’s required.”
“Elizabeth and Mary can,” Mrs. Bennet said.