Chapter 27
Even just a few weeks brought a noticeably earlier morning, Darcy noted, as he passed the great window lighting the stairs, although he was aware the freedom to move without pain was still new enough to take pleasure in.
Today, the weather looked deceptively calm. But he would not be fooled; it had been sharply cold on his ride out. He gladly tolerated it for the joy of being able to gallop for a good length and enjoy the slower pace back to the stables as he cooled the horse down after its exertions.
He had lain in the hot bath, relaxed and able to think calmly about the day to come.
Breakfast. He frowned slightly as he recalled he had not seen Mrs Darcy taking her usual walk outside when he was returning from his ride.
He had become accustomed to the sight of her moving briskly along the paths beside the lake, looking very much as she had when he would watch her from the windows at Netherfield.
Perhaps it had been too cold for her this morning.
Now he descended to the breakfast room. She would be there and they would exchange brief courtesy acknowledgements.
One day, perhaps, they might speak of more than inanities, but he would wait for her to seem to invite it; he knew she did not wish to be here.
She was seated at the table, a small set of papers beside her, and lifting her teacup. He noticed that the plate in front of her was empty. Had she broken her fast early to avoid him?
She rose to her feet as he entered the room, dipping a slight curtsy. He nodded at her.
“Mrs Darcy.”
She lifted her face towards him, but her eyes did not meet his. “Mr Darcy.”
He walked to the sideboard and filled himself a plate, enjoying the anticipation with the return of his appetite, before taking his place at the head of the table.
He enjoyed the ham, eggs and fresh bread, before he glanced over at his wife’s plate again. It held only a few dry crumbs. Had she not eaten more than a slice of bread? He noted that she seemed thinner than when he had last looked at her properly — was that at Netherfield, before …?
No, he could not think of that. He glanced at the papers beside her place and cleared his throat. “What are your plans for today, Mrs Darcy?”
She looked up composedly. No arch impertinence here. “I am calling on Mrs Ross, over at Linacre, and we will be discussing the tenants under her purview.” Darcy nodded.
“You should wear a warm coat. It is still very cold outside.”
“I thank you, sir.” She looked away from him, closing down the conversation.
He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. These small interactions were not what he intended. But he would take a moment more.
He lifted his coffee cup and indicated to the footman to pour him another. Then he felt able to make a further attempt.
“Is there anything particular you wish to confer with Mrs Ross about?”
She looked up, seemingly startled, then composed herself. “Mrs Snell had a hard time when her baby arrived early.”
“Has the apothecary attended?”
“Of course.”
“Will she and the babe be well?”
His wife looked away, her face settled into sadness. “We are worried about the child. I think he is not likely to live.”
Pain struck him at the sight of her distress, well-hidden though it was. “Does the family need extra assistance, more firewood? They must keep the place warm.”
The surprise — no, shock in her eyes as she looked at him properly, shamed him. Did she really think so badly of him? He shifted uncomfortably and she looked away again.
“I thank you, Mr Darcy. But all is in place. Her sister is staying with them and looking after the older children, and she seems quite competent.”
Darcy nodded. “Make sure that Mr Dean attends often and remembers to submit his accounts to Mr Reed. The estate will cover them.”
“I will ensure it, thank you.”
He looked down and sipped at his coffee. She was doing far more for the tenants than he had realised, and seemed very competent. He could respect that.
But she rose to her feet. “If you will please excuse me, sir. The gig will be ready to convey me to Linacre shortly.”
He glanced at the clock and nodded as she curtsied, and left the room.
He had to curtail his urge to rise and follow her, to check that she was adequately attired for her call; it would take at least twenty minutes for the gig to take her there, and he doubted the Ross home was particularly warm.
But he forced himself to remain seated and finish his coffee.
She despised him and would not take kindly to him being officious.
He would go to his office and meet with Mr Reed.
He would be able to give him the details of the Snell family, and Darcy could ensure that he was at luncheon when Mrs Darcy was.
He was in his study with the door open when he heard her voice in the hall as her maid assisted her to remove her coat and hat, and then he heard their voices recede up the stairs.
She had not sounded cheerful, and he sighed.
Mr Reed had been certain the Snell baby had little time left, and Darcy was sure his wife would be distressed when it passed.
He crossed to the small dining parlour where a light meal had been set. He turned to the butler.
“Please confirm that Mrs Darcy will join me when she is able.” At the man’s nod, he turned and went back to his study to await her.
He held her chair for her when they sat to dine and he noted the tension in her shoulders. “Was the news dire, Mrs Darcy?” He spoke quietly, and her posture slumped slightly.
“I am afraid so. The boy died last night. Mrs Snell is distraught. She has two little girls, but this is the second boy child they have lost.”
Darcy grimaced. “Is Mr Snell being kind to his wife?”
She didn’t answer him, but took a small portion of ham and vegetables from the dish the footman held for her.
Darcy took a rather larger portion for himself, and glanced at her as she applied herself to her food. He could think of nothing to say.
Once again, he noted she was wearing an older gown — at least this one was woollen, but he was sure he recognised it from Longbourn, and suddenly he noted a small area of repair on the sleeve near her elbow. It was very well done, but once he had seen it, it was obvious to him.
Why was she not buying new clothes? Surely she could take her maid with her to Derby to the modiste? Her pin money was very generous, and it did not appear as if she had been spending money on the house.
He recalled that there were several of the ledgers he had not yet looked at with enough detail. Perhaps they would shine light on the puzzle.
Perhaps she was sending money to her family! His temper rose. As soon as lunch was over, he would read them and discover what had happened.
He ate in silence, and she did not interrupt him. As soon as the final course had been cleared, she rose to her feet.
“Please excuse me, sir.” Then she hesitated.
Darcy looked at her enquiringly, wondering what she possibly had to say and nodded for her to speak.
“Thank you. Fortunately the Snell baby survived long enough for Mr Mair to baptise him at home. I will sit with her while the funeral is held tomorrow. Will Mr Reed attend to represent the family, or will Mr Ross take the duty?”
Darcy looked down and considered, wondering what she expected of him.
But there was not much happening tomorrow.
He gave a brief nod. “Mr Reed and I will attend, madam.” He could do that, although he usually only attended when it was an adult member of the tenant family, not a child. But he hoped it might please his wife.
He rose to his feet as she acknowledged him and left the room. He had been going to ask her to walk with him after the meal, but perhaps it would be better to find out what she was doing with her pin money first.
He sighed, and returned to his study, ordering coffee to be served in there. He would wait until he had finished his coffee before braving the ledgers in the estate office once more.
He leafed through the account pages of the current great ledger open on the desk in front of him — rents, arrears of rents, tenants, timber sales, household expenses, servants’ wages — several pages of these, linen account, candles and fuel.
He began to leaf faster through the myriad of minutiae, looking for the page with her name on it.
There! An almost empty entry with her name at the top. On the right, two lines:
Dec 12 — To Pin Money (from marriage to Christmas) — ￡22 10s
Dec 25 — To Pin Money (Christmas Quarter) — ￡100
He sighed, the money was available to her. In another ten days, there would be another entry for Lady Day.
His eyes went to the left hand page to see what she had spent, what accounts had been settled for her, and what cash sums she had asked for. There was no answering entry on the opposing page. Not a single charge set against her name.
He stared at the page, as if he could conjure up some record of money she had spent. Nothing. Three months; a little more than three months, and she had spent nothing. She could not have brought much in the way of funds with her.
His eyes misted and he blinked furiously. This was his fault, surely? He recalled early after their arrival, when she had come to him and mentioned pin money, and he had not even permitted her to finish her question before berating her.
But it could not be. Her father ought to have explained to her how to access pin money, and she would have seen the way her mother received hers … although was a small estate similar to Pemberley in the disbursement of funds?
How could he put this right? Mrs Darcy should be dressed appropriately; she should be able to purchase items in Lambton, thus sharing the largess of the estate with local merchants.
He closed the ledger and placed it back on the shelf with leaden hands, and returned to the study. He needed a whisky. But he doubted it would help. He could think of no way at all to put this right; not and keep his dignity.