Chapter 8 Ides of March
After reading the text on marriage law, Elizabeth spent several days ruminating on what she had learned.
Marriage was almost always till death us do part, but the key word was almost. It turned out that there were several difficult and expensive ways for a man to get out of a marriage, and several far easier and less expensive ways for a man to act as if he were not married, without the expense and bother of breaking the legal bond.
All were obviously dishonourable, but well within Pemberley and the Darcy family’s capabilities.
To date, nothing she knew about her husband and his family proved eternal optimism justified.
To be fair, she had no proof that her husband was dishonourable, and the fact that he had offered for her suggested he had some concern for his reputation and legacy; but his behaviour had thus far not been auspicious.
She had even learned that passing the estate to his first-born male child was not cast in stone as she had always assumed.
Pemberley had no entail, so her husband could pass it to whomever he pleased.
If he wanted to pass it to a nephew, natural child, or cousin, the law would not blink an eye.
Society might just barely blink, but the law would not.
He even had one cousin, an army colonel, who was reportedly closer than a brother; so, the idea of making him or his son the heir was not out of the question.
There was no indication that he planned to dishonour his vows, but frightfully little evidence he planned to honour them either.
Of course, in those matters, the wife had none of those options.
She was legally the property of her husband and had no say whatsoever.
She could not even defend herself, should he take a case to the Ecclesiastical Courts for an annulment, to take one extreme example.
Her husband had complete control over her future, whether for good or ill.
It turned out that in ‘good times and bad’ was a matter of honour and character for the husband, but a legal requirement for the wife. She ended up feeling sick at the end.
Elizabeth had also spoken with several people, including Mr Bartlet on one of her increasingly frequent walks to Lambton, about exactly how the ton worked.
What she learned made her question why any sane person would join such a disreputable group voluntarily.
Gambling, infidelity, and dishonesty were rampant, from the Prince Regent down to the lowest member of the so-called upper ten thousand.
Playing with reputations was just another sport to them, and they would happily make her entire life miserable just to gain some small social advantage or to win a wager at White’s.
Scandals inconvenienced husbands but absolutely ruined wives, especially if they did not have the iron-clad support of the husband’s family.
All this left Elizabeth alternating between hopelessness, depression, and burning anger on an almost hourly basis.
She wondered exactly how she could best use this interval, but could not decide, so she just let a fair number of days slip by with no resolution, vacillating between industry and indolence, as February gradually turned to March, and winter gradually turned to spring.
Elizabeth could not resist reading a play on the fifteenth of March, and she gathered a bit of an audience, more by accident than design.
It all began by reading aloud with Molly, and then, without any real plan, Noah joined.
His reading voice was slow but adequate, while his need to get up and vastly overact the scene was amusing.
Elizabeth thought it was quite the performance.
He often left her with unladylike bouts of laughter, though he was as likely to do so with a tragedy as a comedy.
On that sunny day, heralding the Ides of March, she left the library doors open by accident.
When other maids and footmen stopped by to listen for a few minutes, she invited them in and suggested they rest and enjoy the performance for a few minutes.
She had no idea if she would have a reckoning with Mrs Reynolds over it, but she could not imagine a half-hour of leisure could cause the house to fall down around their ears.
In fact, she was not even certain the house falling down around her ears would be bad, or at least, in her more facetious moods she thought that.
Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night seething, thinking, ‘One letter! Would it kill the bloody man to write one blasted letter?’ Apparently, her husband either had been shipped off somewhere without mail (an absurd notion if there ever was one), or maybe he was lying abed dying in some sickroom somewhere (still without access to mail).
It was all so ludicrous. If he were a soldier, or going off to France to negotiate with Napoleon, then she might have understood it—but a gentleman?
The most dangerous thing gentlemen ever did was ride in fox hunts and dance with unsuitable country girls.
She had been meeting with Mrs Reynolds weekly from the beginning and had finally taken a tour of most of the house (except for the hidden stairs, which the housekeeper failed to mention) at the beginning of March, so she had a reasonable idea of how things were done.
If two thirds of the servants did absolutely nothing for a fortnight, nobody would even notice, and a month would not cause undue hardship.
A lot of their time was spent cleaning and polishing things that were already perfectly adequate in the first place.
She had just stood up to ask some of the others if they might like to take part, when the butler entered.
He looked around at the assembled footmen, and Elizabeth was astonished to see that he could say, ‘Have you no duties to perform?’ with as much effect as her mother yelling, ‘Hill! Hill!’ at the top of her lungs.
Her audience vanished as if they had never existed, leaving Elizabeth alone with the butler, since Molly had left with everyone else.
Elizabeth wondered what exactly would happen if she decided to have it out with the taciturn man.
She was the mistress, and by all rights should be able to sack him, or at the very least influence his behaviour; but that was all theoretical.
She suspected that if it came down to a dispute between her and the butler, he would just ignore her, or he might enlist Mr Knight in the argument, and it was clear where that would end.
Right at that moment, Elizabeth felt more despondent and angrier than she had since her husband abandoned her on her wedding afternoon; even though nothing had happened except an interruption to her little play, which could easily be resumed at a moment’s notice.
She did not however, feel up to having it out with the butler just yet—especially since he had done nothing save walk into the room.
Very much to her surprise, he said, “I did not mean to disrupt your entertainment, madam. I am afraid none of the lower servants can imagine that I would approve of this activity.”
Astonished, Elizabeth asked, “Do you disapprove, Jennings?”
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove. However odd the master’s instructions might be, you are the mistress of this house. Having said that, I do not personally disapprove of such activities—in moderation. They are even good for morale.”
Elizabeth was as surprised by the declaration as she had ever been in the house. “Does this odd situation make you,” and she struggled for the right word for some time before settling on, “uncomfortable?”
“I prefer things orderly and unambiguous. It is, of course, not your fault that things are not running in their usual manner, but this is far from the strangest situation I have ever seen. All is well.”
“Do you worry about what happens when the master returns?” she asked out of genuine curiosity.
She was rarely curious about her husband, feeling as though she knew all about him she was ever likely to, but in that moment, she was curious about Jennings.
He paused long enough to suggest he found the question uncomfortable, but she had no pity, since every day of the past quarter had been uncomfortable for her in one way or another.
He finally said, “I do not worry. The master is a fair man,” he paused a moment, “as are you, madam. It is not my place to say—”
Then he just ran out of courage and stopped, so Elizabeth said, “Speak your mind, Jennings. I will not censure you, now or later.”
Nodding slightly, he continued, “I will not comment, except to say that you have been placed in a very awkward situation, and you have handled it especially well. I particularly appreciate the facade of mourning. You wear it well, but it is clearly a fabrication. It is not, however, obvious to everyone else, and it makes a good excuse for your lack of society within the neighbourhood.”
Elizabeth laughed openly. “Why, Mr Jennings, I can see how you maintain your position. That was exactly the right combination of flattery and impertinence to make me like you.”
Looking inscrutable, he bowed regally. “I aim to please, madam.”
Elizabeth laughed. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You have no doubt noticed that I have not taken the reins of the household as a mistress ordinarily would.”
“I do not know how you could, given your restrictions.”
“While I cannot do anything, there is no prohibition on my learning, is there—aside from my legendary indolence?”
“No, madam.”
Elizabeth thought for a moment, while the butler waited patiently, a skill she imagined had taken decades of practice.
After quite some time, Elizabeth finally said, “I have no idea what will happen when Mr Darcy returns, but within the restrictions he has placed on me, do you suppose you could teach me what I would need to know if I did wish to be a proper mistress?”