~Twenty-eight~
One week later....
If anyone, either the Darcys or the servants of Redbyrne, had heard the laughter of the newlyweds, they were wise enough to say nothing of it.
For in the selection of a permanent bedchamber, no appointment had been made.
Redbyrne, as a fortress of considerable age, had undergone many revisions from the original floorplan.
As the family had grown, bringing wives and husbands to live under one roof, several small apartments had been created to accommodate.
Of this, the convenience and practicality were seen, but that was where it ended.
Modern improvements had been rare, unlike the comforts to be had at Pemberley.
But now, with a new mistress, and a new master, long overdue changes would be made.
“I cannot ever imagine sleeping in the rooms belonging to my parents. Mother died so long ago, that there is little of her presence, but as for Father....and his...companions, for lack of a better word, it creates an unpleasant image that no amount of new furnishings will erase. But of the rest, the choice is yours,” Matlock had insisted to his bride.
He desired that she believe Redbyrne was her home, and as such, display any personal preferences.
In this, Moira Fitzwilliam had agreed, but went several steps further.
“Perhaps we should spend several nights in different locations so we might discover what suits us best?” she had suggested, turning each evening into an expedition of sorts, but only after Francis was long asleep.
Of his accommodations, that too, needed sorting.
The nursery, long in disuse, and situated on the traditional uppermost level, was unfit for livestock, much less children.
At present, he was occupying a suite of guest chambers, one that allowed for a separate play area as well as a private bedchamber for his nursemaid.
Upon this luxury for a servant, Lady Matlock had insisted, as well as numerous upgrades to the servant quarters in general.
“Do you realize how your household staff lives?” she had inquired during one of the many discussions as to what improvements were needed first.
“I... I must say, I haven’t given it much thought. The militia often kept me away for considerable lengths of time. I was more a visitor to my home, than resident, and even if I was not, the place did not belong to me.”
It seemed like a poor excuse, but now, as it could be rectified, Moira merely nodded, and took him by the hand, leading the Master of Redbyrne to the upper levels, a place that he truly could not recall ever visiting.
Opening one door after another, they revealed Spartan cells, bare of any semblance of comfort.
Iron bedsteads, with peeling paint and rust, supported thin mattresses and patched bedding.
“I had no idea....my soldiers, even the lowliest of conscripts, live better,” he admitted in mortification, knowing that the wages formerly paid had been equally bad. It was a wonder that any servant remained.
“Easily remedied, but I thought you should know where I plan to spend a significant portion of your money,” Moira insisted, her voice soft, as if expecting a refusal. But instead, he merely took her hands in his, holding them up to his lips.
“Our money...what I have, is yours, and if more is required, you need only say.”
It was a gesture that melted her heart, and Lady Matlock would be prudent in spending, but not stingy.
No, she had suffered under the hand of one who pinched pennies on necessities, yet spent lavishly on frivolities.
And when the first improvements began, found herself immediately endeared to the servants, not only for her generosity, but a kindness of nature that could only be had by having been in the other’s place.
The Darcys, having been away from their own home for far too long, could only smile, for what had begun with great misgivings, had the best possible outcome. Much like themselves, the Earl and Countess of Matlock were a perfect match, and now, best left to the privacy they deserved.
“We are but twenty miles away, do not feel as if you are in any way an inconvenience should you require us,” Darcy insisted to his cousin, as Elizabeth said her own goodbyes to Moira.
“I do wish you would reconsider having a lady’s maid,” Mrs. Darcy insisted, knowing how she felt to be suddenly living away from her friends and sisters. It could be quite lonely, even when surrounded by people.
“I do not know what I would have one do. I am accustomed to doing for myself,” Moria replied, but Elizabeth saw a faraway look in the lady’s eyes, as if remembering another time.
And truthfully, Lady Matlock was a bit sad, for not a single letter had come in the weeks since her engagement and later marriage.
Ariana Talmadge was nothing if not resourceful, if she had wanted to write, a letter would have found its way north, regardless of her grandmother’s wishes.
Had Lady Drummond installed greater surveillance over her granddaughter?
Or, had she simply been forgotten, like a favorite gown, now out of style?
Sharing nothing of this, she restated her thanks to Elizabeth Darcy.
“Besides, we will not be entertaining for some time, not until Richard is released from his commission. I suppose then, London will be necessary, presentation to the Queen and all that nonsense.”
To this, Elizabeth smiled, for she recalled her own presentation and introduction to society, not as Miss Bennet, but as Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley. It had been quite a change, and had she been given the luxury of more time, would have relished the opportunity.
“Well then, I suppose we must be off, but rest assured, I shall come to visit from time to time. I look forward to seeing what you do with the place.”
Pemberley, stunning in all aspects, had required little alteration to accommodate a new mistress, and admittedly, Elizabeth had felt a stranger for quite some time.
Only now, nearly two years later, had she become so accustomed to her surroundings that the grandeur of the house and grounds had ceased to make her apprehensive about changing a thing.
In this, Moira was fortunate, as well as having a generous husband.
Redbyrne would be her home more than anyone’s.