Ground Floor
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam’s descent to the ballroom proved entirely uneventful and free of hidden meaning, save for the smirk from Georgiana as she beheld `her friend Lizzy` walking arm in arm with her brother, and the smirk from Lady Matlock as she watched her hopefully future niece walking arm in arm with her lunkheaded nephew, and the bright smile from Stewart, who saw the possibility of finally being able to fit her mistress with a new dress rather than a hand-me-down; and the smiles and respectful nods of all the footmen and maids, who seemed thicker on the route than usual by at least double.
By the end, it occurred to Elizabeth that this might not have been the best strategy were she trying to escape Pemberley, but a second perusal of the notion suggested it was akin to worrying about a hangnail when you had been shot.
When they arrived at the ballroom, they met Breton, who smiled enough to light up the room, bowed very respectfully to the mistress, and smacked the master on the arm hard enough to raise a bruise.
Not a man opposed to an opportunity for impertinence, he said, “Miss Bennet, Darcy, it is so nice to see you so… er… harmonious?”
Fitzwilliam laughed, a sound Elizabeth still found disconcerting, but one that she could probably accustom herself to. “Remember that your courtship starts in less than four hours, Breton, and I have a long memory.”
With a huge laugh, the stablemaster replied with a proper bow to show the appropriate respect for the master of the estate, and it was only marginally injured by an impertinent smirk.
Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, I have affairs to see to in here. Pray, take Mr Breton outside and see if you can beat some sense into him.”
Both gentlemen roared with laughter. Had she made her ultimate position better or worse? Did it even matter? She still liked to think she had a decision to make, but the Longbourn-sized hole Fitzwilliam had dug for himself was smaller than Longbourn’s stables already.
They entered the ballroom, but she pointed to an unobtrusive corner behind a support column where the men could observe without being easily seen, and they followed instructions like two well-trained dogs.
Elizabeth then assumed what she considered her mistress of Pemberley countenance and went to meet the guests.
Most villagers had worked out that even if she was not the ‘real’ mistress of the estate, she carried the same whip the real mistress would, and they owed her their respect.
There was plenty of doffing of caps from the men, which Elizabeth accepted with the best grace she could, though it was not always perfect.
The women had quickly learned that a small curtsy followed by a genuine greeting went a long way, while a deep curtsy followed by excessive fawning led to their concerns being addressed last.
Elizabeth was just greeting Mrs Hind, who was heavily pregnant but refused to move to a room in the family wing, when a commotion erupted a dozen feet away.
Two boys of around seventeen stood a few feet apart, hands balled into fists, rage on their faces, yelling at each other loud enough to be heard upstairs.
They both looked like blacksmiths’ sons, each close to six feet tall, well-muscled, and strong as oxen.
Both appeared ready to do real damage. The two boys, Hatcher and Jensen, had been problematic before, and Elizabeth had endured just about all she intended to.
She glanced toward the corner with Darcy and Breton and saw both men starting to stride her way, but she waved her hand discreetly.
Darcy caught her signal and studied her, reaching out to stop Breton.
She waved them back to their corner, and when Darcy showed signs of arguing, she frowned with an expression that promised retribution for lack of compliance.
If she could not handle two overgrown infants, she had no business being mistress of a great estate.
Darcy, surprised by her decision but unwilling to contradict clear instruction when he was not at all certain he was out of disgrace yet, acquiesced to the scheme—but God help those boys if they injured so much as a hair on his Elizabeth’s head.
Breton just laughed. “Sit back. You will want to see this.”
Quite calmly, as if she had all day, the mistress said a few more words to Mrs Hind and kissed her on the cheek. A few more words were exchanged, and the lady took Elizabeth’s hand and held it on her stomach for a few seconds, which drew a huge smile from the mistress.
Then, sighing in resignation, she walked away from the expectant mother.
As she crossed the floor, Darcy could swear she grew taller right before his eyes.
Breton just chuckled. “You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, my friend.”
Looking like an admittedly short Valkyrie, Elizabeth walked right up to the two boys, whose shouting match was truly getting out of hand, calmly reached up, and grabbed both by their ears.
She appeared an inch from drawing blood, for both boys immediately stopped their shouting and reached for their ears before they saw it was the mistress of the house who held them.
At that point, they both became preternaturally still.
Elizabeth gripped their ears, apparently squeezing with some force, until both boys looked to her and reached up to doff their caps respectfully. Finally, after another half-minute or so, she released them and calmly stepped back.
Both boys bowed deeply, though clumsily, and stood hat in hands, awaiting their punishment. She simply raised her finger, pointed to the southwest, and held it there while staring them down.
The boys noted the gesture, looked down in contrition, bowed, then walked back to their sleeping areas, gathered their coats and boots, and departed.
Giving a slight smirk, Elizabeth carried on with her rounds.
She approached each villager, all of whom showed her at least as much respect as they would show him, and probably more.
This did not distress him in the least. If he wanted their respect in future, he would either have to work for it, or cheat and rely on what Elizabeth garnered.
She approached the builder, and Darcy was surprised when she pulled a billfold out of a hidden pocket in her dress, passed it to him, and shook his hand.
That was apparently the transaction. He began to appreciate that people always treated him in his business dealings out of a combination of respect and fear.
He always tried to emphasise the former by being scrupulously honest but was willing to fall back on the latter if necessary.
He began to understand that the same people would treat Elizabeth well simply because they could not conceive of doing otherwise.
It was a sobering but elevating thought.
A half-hour later, Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves at the front door.
The rain had ceased days earlier, so there was a good chance they could walk at their leisure wherever they liked without too much mud.
Darcy recalled when Elizabeth trekked three miles in the mud to tend Jane and surmised mud would not be an impediment anyway…
unless of course she judged the overly fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy unable to keep up with her.
“My lady, if you allow me the pleasure of choice, I believe I have a path you would enjoy.”
“Why is there no phrase like my gentleman?”
Fitzwilliam laughed along with her. Elizabeth nodded, took his arm, and he was happy with the result.
They walked for an hour to reach their destination.
They could not truly discuss commonplaces with so much to be said, but neither could start on the big conversation that both knew the rest of their lives would revolve around.
Instead, they spent the time recounting their tales, which involved quite a lot of gasped exclamations.
“Jane said what? Jane Bennet made you cry? A grown man and master of an estate crying like a baby. I bet that was uncomfortable.”
Much to her delight, Fitzwilliam laughed self-deprecatingly. “I am quite jealous. You women can cry at your leisure, and nobody thinks aught of it, but a man cries, and it seems shocking.”
“Not seems shocking. Is shocking!”
Both laughed, and the recounting of the discussion in the carriage left both in tears.
“You do realise you are the first horsewoman?”
Nodding in embarrassment, she said, “Well, perhaps… Where is your high horse anyway? We may need him to get back to the house.”
He laughed in relief and asked with caution.
“Jane tells me you sometimes see visions of people giving you advice. She recommended we not discuss it in company as it makes us sound a trifle mad, but I should tell you that I experience the same. My tears owed as much to seeing my mother, who looked more like Jane’s sister than you do, standing between her and Miss Taylor looking disappointed.
She tried to warn me, but I did not listen. ”
She dragged him to a stop to face her. “Perhaps… well… perhaps your mother was not chastising you but preparing you for what fate had in store. It sounds crazy, but sometimes I think the gods of chance have been playing games specifically designed to put us together.”
“Do you object to their interference?”
Elizabeth reflected for some time. “I do not. I would not trade my experience for anything in the world. How many women like me have been allowed the privilege of proving their worth without first being bound in matrimony?”
“How many, indeed. If your worth was ever in doubt—which it was not—then today’s display would have dispelled it from the most hard-hearted observer. By the way, what did you do with those boys?”
“You saw it. I just extended my finger to the southwest.”
“Which means?”
“You might find me less pleasant than you thought if I tell you.”
“Unlikely!”
“As you know, the Leeson pig farm is that way. I warned those boys before that such behaviour would not be tolerated. They are on their way to work slopping, feeding, and butchering pigs for the next fortnight, from dawn to dark. Their fathers will ensure their compliance. Each day at sundown for a week, they will make a bed under a small overhang in the pigpen and sleep there for the night.”
He laughed uproariously, while she vacillated between embarrassment and laughter, though the latter proved the victor.
They discussed the arrangements for the dead at Pemberley, and the current state of the measles victims. Likely, Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, and Mr Nelson, the butler, would recover eventually.
Elizabeth was unhappy that she had not tended them.
She could have done so safely, she felt, but had been overruled by the senior staff who would take no chances.
Fitzwilliam recounted the last assembly in Meryton, which left Elizabeth laughing heartily.
“You realise Anne is probably taken now? She could look a hundred years and not find a better man than Jason.”
“So why have none of the Bennet girls snapped him up?”
“Good question… to tell the truth, he has always seen all of us in a fraternal light, and it is hard to dislodge such an idea. Then, of course, none of us have any fortune whatsoever, and he is a third son. He would double Rosings’ income though.”
“Such low ambitions. I am certain you are just being polite. He could do that by just reining in some of my aunt’s more ostentatious displays.”
Elizabeth laughed and agreed.
“You know your aunt will never accept him.”
“Yes, but Anne has… well—”
She looked at him encouragingly.
“This experience has changed Anne as much as it has changed me. Richard and I have been trying to get her to break out of her self-imposed exile for years, but well… forcing her always seemed a bad idea. She met Jane, and something… well… something fit. They make each other braver. I will not pretend to understand, but since my entire responsibility consists of having enough sense to stay out of their way, I believe I can manage it.”
The lady laughed and let the subject go. She probably should feel a stab of jealousy at being so easily replaced in Jane’s affections, but the very idea was anathema.
An hour after leaving Pemberley, they arrived. “Here we are, my lady.”