Chapter Two
Pemberley
Mr. Darcy threw the newspaper down to the floor and howled in rage.
The footman dropped the coffee pot in shock; the china shattered to pieces on the floor. A maid came running in to see what was amiss; the footman began stammering out apologies to his master. The maid ran back to the kitchen and returned a moment later with Mrs. Reynolds.
Mr. Darcy’s sister, who had joined him for breakfast, leaped to her feet and gaped at him. “Brother! What is it?”
“Mr. Darcy, I will take the cost of the coffee pot out of Jack’s wages,” Mrs. Reynolds said, wringing her hands. “I cannot imagine what –“
By this time, Mr. Darcy had regained control of himself, though it was clear that he was deeply shaken.
“No, Mrs. Reynolds,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is entirely my fault. I saw something in the newspaper that caused me some distress, and I reacted rather too strongly. Anyone would have dropped the pot. Jack,” he looked directly at the footman now. “You are not to blame.”
Poor Jack began stammering out apologies again, but Mr. Darcy shook his head. “No; this was entirely my own fault.”
By now, Georgiana had picked up the paper that Mr. Darcy had thrown to the floor.
Mr. Darcy saw her and said, “Georgiana, no, do not look – “ But too late, as she had already seen it. She gasped in horror; her hand flew to her mouth and tears began to race down her cheeks. She threw the paper back down onto the floor and ran out of the room, Mr. Darcy on her heels.
Mrs. Reynolds considered herself to be one of the family, and so – of course!
– she needed to know what it was that had given Mr. Darcy such a start and Miss Darcy such pain.
She picked up the newspaper, walked to her own room and sat down with it.
It did not take her long to find what she sought, for it was the very first article on the social page.
We have just learnt that a certain Miss GD of Derbyshire was one step away from eloping with the steward’s son before her brother caught the unlucky pair just in time. We can only wonder what possessed her! Perhaps Mr. FD is not as attentive a brother as one would hope?
So this is what had been troubling the master and his sister since they had returned from the seashore!
And the steward’s son? That was, of course, George Wickham, who had been a thorn in Mr. Darcy’s side for so many years.
To think that George Wickham had tried to elope with Miss Darcy, just fifteen years old! Such wickedness!
And that Mrs. Younge! Mrs. Reynolds growled under her breath. She had never liked Miss Darcy’s companion, not since she had appeared at Pemberley three months ago. Far too many airs, and try as that woman might to disguise her accent, Mrs. Reynolds knew a Spitalfields inflection when she heard one.
Mrs. Reynolds sat for a long time, tears trickling slowly down her wrinkled face. Poor Miss Darcy! How she wished she could do something to help the girl!