Chapter 37 #2
“I wish I was, sir. But it were Mrs Reynolds who used to arrange for the coal to be brought in when it were running low, and no one who’s been taking it from the stores thought to tell anyone else when it got low, ’cos they all assumed it’d just turn up like it usually does.
Only then it din’t, and this morning, there were none left.
We’ve had to take all the coal from the bedrooms to heat the dining and drawing rooms, for we thought you’d rather be warm while you was eating. ”
“Matthis said nothing of this to me just now.”
“I don’t know as Mr Matthis knows, sir. I’ve sent word to Mr Gabion, and he’s coming first thing wi’ more. I’m sorry, sir. Truly.”
“If Matthis does not know, then I can only assume it is because he still has coal in his grate.”
Hannah reddened and looked at the floor. “I don’t know, sir. I din’t think to look for any in there. We’re not allowed in the men’s rooms.”
“So, you took it from your new mistress’s room instead?”
“A-and yours, sir. I would’ve brought up some logs, but they won’t burn proper in a coal grate.”
“I am aware of that,” Darcy snapped. “Find some coal from somewhere and light this fire this instant.”
Hannah hastened away to see to it. Elizabeth waited only for the door to click closed behind her before she let out the laughter she had been holding in throughout the interview.
“How is this remotely amusing?” Darcy exclaimed.
“Because having enough coal to heat her cottage is what I lectured Lydia about before she left Longbourn. And now we do not have any in the whole of this enormous house.”
“That makes it less amusing, not more.”
“Poor Hannah, she did what she thought was best. And I own, I should rather a cold bed than a cold dinner.” She looped her arm around Darcy’s and placed a hand on his chest. “I promise to keep you warm.”
He raised an eyebrow but had not the time to act upon whatever thought had occurred to him before two other maids burst in carrying one of Elizabeth’s trunks between them.
They dropped it in fright when they espied their master and mistress embracing in front of them.
Pre-empting Darcy’s certain anger, Elizabeth asked him to leave her to change.
She enlisted the maids’ help in refreshing herself after her travels and readying for dinner, satisfying herself in the process that, friendly though they were, neither they nor Hannah were contenders for the role of housekeeper.
Dinner might as well have been cold for all that she enjoyed it, but she was resolved to reveal no hint of her dissatisfaction to Darcy.
The food aside, she relished sharing a meal with him at his table.
He fitted into his surroundings as well as he did his clothes, as though Pemberley had been tailored to suit him.
They conversed unceasingly, laughed often, and several times startled the servants with the liveliness of their discussion.
It was all going swimmingly, in fact, until Darcy had an unfortunate recollection.
“You do not like ragout,” he said, looking up from her still half-full plate. “I recall you talking to Hurst about it at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth gave him a crooked smile and shook her head. “But it does not matter. It is perfectly wholesome. I shall not go hungry.”
“It does matter. This is your first meal here as mistress, and I did not even think to notify Chef of your preferences. I shall have him send something different up.”
“You will do no such thing!” Turning to the servants, Elizabeth said, “And you will not repeat a word of this to Monsieur Dubois if you have any compassion. Indeed, I beg you would give him my regards and tell him I enjoyed the meal very well. I will not offend the poor man on my first day here.”
Matthis assured her of their secrecy. “There is a blancmange for dessert, Mrs Darcy. Would that be to your taste?”
Her heart sank. She cast a rather desperate glance at Darcy, who took her meaning directly. “Pray tell Chef neither of us are overly hungry this evening and to save dessert for another day.”
“Very good, sir. Should you like some coffee in the drawing room?”
Elizabeth agreed that she would and stood to go through together with Darcy, wishing the evening had not soured so quickly. “I assure you I am not particular—I will eat most things. It is just rotten luck that those are two of my least favourite dishes. I hope I have not offended you.”
“Not at all. I am sorry that it was not a more enjoyable meal.”
“It was enjoyable! Just not the food part.”
He smiled vaguely but did not seem much cheered.
“I have offended you.”
“Are we to argue on our first evening at home, Mrs Darcy?”
“No. Not if you admit what is upsetting you.”
Darcy tucked a curl behind her ear and stroked her cheek.
“I have waited a long time to bring you to Pemberley as my wife. Yet the servants are indisposed, half the house is packed into crates, the other half is freezing cold, and you have eaten three slices of potato and a carrot for your dinner. Not even you can convince me this is a perfect beginning.”
“You are forgetting all my previous visits, which, if you include being framed as an interloper by your guests, reprimanded by your butler, and shut out in the rain by your housekeeper, serve as an invaluable contrast.” She reached for his hands, entwining her fingers with his.
“Whereas this time, I am here with you. You have made me your wife, and I have never felt as though I belonged anywhere as much as I do here. In my humble opinion, that makes it perfect.”
Elizabeth wished she had known sooner in their acquaintance that when Darcy stared at her as piercingly as he was at present, it was a good thing. It would have saved a significant number of misunderstandings and afforded her a great deal more pleasure.
“Have I mentioned how dearly I love you?” he asked.
“Not for at least an hour. You are slipping.”
They forewent the coffee in favour of giving Darcy the opportunity to catch up with his endearments and Elizabeth the chance to prove that she could, indeed, keep Darcy more than adequately warm.