Chapter IV
September 1804
"Has the viscount arrived yet?" Betsy eagerly inquired as Elizabeth scurried down the stairs. Elizabeth shook her head and raised an eyebrow.
"Not that I am aware." Elizabeth hoped her friend had not developed tender feelings toward Lord James Fitzwilliam. Two months before, Lizzy might have daydreamed about a love story between a viscount and a scullery maid; her life as a servant had driven away her belief in fairy tales. She could no longer even imagine such an attachment could yield anything better than disappointment for Betsy.
Elizabeth discovered her fears were unfounded a few minutes later when a handsome young man entered the kitchen. Betsy clearly recognized him, for her face became bright crimson the instant she spied him. To Elizabeth's chagrin, her friend became as still as a statue and was clearly incapable of handling introductions.
"Excuse me, sir. May I help you?" Elizabeth inquired.
"My master will arrive in half an hour. Make sure his bath is ready." Elizabeth looked at the man in silence for a moment and then furrowed her brow. The man stared at Elizabeth, dismayed that she had not yet responded to his request.
Finally, Elizabeth asked, "Who is your master, sir?"
"Lord James, of course."
"Very well. I shall see that his bath is prepared. Would he also like tea?"
"I am certain he would."
"And how does he take his tea?" The manservant looked at the maid in surprise, though Elizabeth could not see why.
"With honey and cream as he always has." Elizabeth had never heard of anyone taking tea with honey and cream. Just envisioning the drink prepared thusly made her gag slightly. However, she composed herself quickly.
"Is he riding or traveling by carriage?"
"Should that matter?"
"There is a balm Mrs. Pringle makes to ease sore muscles. She said I should offer it to all the gentlemen who arrive on horseback." When she first learned of the balm, Elizabeth wondered why no one offered it to scullery maids at the end of a long day.
"Lord James always rides."
"Is there anything else your master will be needing?"
"Only the usual," the manservant answered gruffly. He felt this young maid was wasting his time. For he wished to finish the business of unpacking his master's things before the viscount arrived.
"I am sorry, sir," replied Elizabeth, hiding her vexation well. "I have not been informed of the viscount's usual needs. Of course, I could seek one of the more experienced maids, but I would hate to interrupt her work, nor would I wish to delay attending to your master's needs. Perhaps you could tell me what those needs are." The manservant examined Elizabeth for a moment.
"You are new."
"I do not believe I am young enough to be called new, sir," Elizabeth responded cheekily. Elizabeth thought she spied a hint of blush on his cheeks, which rendered him uncommonly attractive. She began to understand Betsy's attachment. However, the look he next bestowed upon Elizabeth made her feel rather dirty, though she could not explain why.
"Indeed. You are not so young as that. Nevertheless, since you are newly employed here, I shall introduce myself. "I am Henry Parker, valet to Lord James Fitzwilliam."
"I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Elizabeth paused trying to determine what she could call her position.
Before she continued, Parker interjected, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" Elizabeth blushed realizing she should not have given her full name.
"I am Eliza." When Elizabeth uttered these words, she felt she was giving up part of herself, for though she had been called Eliza for many weeks, she had never before owned it as her name. Now, although she still thought of herself as Lizzy, she had given up hope of every being called by that moniker, nor could she expect to be addressed as Miss like a proper young lady.
"Very well, Eliza, let me explain my master's preferences."
"Thank you," Elizabeth offered with a nod, then she turned to her roommate, "Betsy, would you please fetch the water for Lord James' bath." Betsy nodded, but Elizabeth thought she appeared sullen.
Elizabeth spoke with Parker for several minutes, as they prepared for the viscount's needs. When she had completed the duties attached to the viscounts arrival, she hurriedly scampered away, glad to remove herself from Parker's presence. Despite his handsome countenance, Elizabeth found she could not like the man; furthermore, he continued to watch her in an unnerving manner.
As she exited the viscount's room into the servant's hall, Elizabeth immediately collided with a young man. In the poorly lit corridor, Elizabeth could not examine him carefully, but she would later observe that, in a comparison of physical attributes, this man was in every way inferior to Mr. Parker. Conversely, in matters of character and amiability, this man was certainly the victor.
"Pardon me, Miss. I should have proceeded more carefully," he stated, as though the collision were his fault, and not Elizabeth's, though she knew the reverse to be correct.
"The fault is mine, sir."
"Would you happen to be Eliza?"
"I am she."
"I am Smith, Lord Barkely's manservant. Jenny said you would assist me in preparing for my master's arrival."
"Smith? Have you no Christian name to distinguish you from all the other Smith's about the place."
"Simply call me Barkely's Smith." Elizabeth laughed a little.
"I must now confess you have made me desperately curious, for if your name were William, or Henry, or Joseph you would not hesitate to share."
"Hadadezer." Elizabeth giggled both at the name and Smith's obvious embarrassment.
"Why would your parents name you after one of the enemies of King David?" Elizabeth's knowledge of his namesake impressed him.
"It was my grandfather's name. According to him the name has been in the family since the crusades and was given to some ancestor in honor of a man who saved his life. However, my grandfather always loved to spin yarns, so I suspect it was a load of rubbish." Elizabeth now laughed heartily.
"And did your family call you by such a name? Or did they have some pet name for you? I cannot imagine calling a small child Hadadezer."
"They called me Daisy," the manservant whispered, "I can hardly say if that was better or worse."
"My goodness. Well, Smith how may I help you prepare for your master's arrival?"
Elizabeth was relieved to find that Lord Barkely was far less particular than Lord James, and the only special requests he made were those required by age and infirmity. Indeed, Elizabeth found herself almost disappointed when Mr. Smith no longer required her assistance, for she had enjoyed his company and found the time passed quickly. Nevertheless, she did reflect that Mrs. Pringle and Mrs. Cook likely would have been unhappy with the cheerful, loquacious manner in which she had conducted herself.
Once she had finished preparing for Lord Barkely's arrival, Elizabeth hastened to the kitchen to assist Betsy with her duties. Lizzy was thankful she had been assigned the task of assisting the guests as they arrived, for it granted her a reprieve from the normal drudgery of her life. Thus, she entered the kitchen with a smile on her face and a lightness in her step.
"There you are!" her friend greeted glumly. Elizabeth wondered if Betsy resented the extra chores she had been assigned while Lizzy attended her special duties.
"I am sorry I was away for so long. Smith required my assistance preparing for Lord Barkely. It seems the earl is in poor health and his physician had a number of special instructions."
"Lord Barkely."
"Yes."
"Weren't ye helpin' Mr. Parker?"
"Only for the first bit."
"Oh," Betsy answered with relief, causing Lizzy to understand her friend's poor mood.
"Do not worry, Betsy. Your Mr. Parker is safe from me."
"He's not my Mr. Parker."
"Oh, but you wish he were!" Lizzy answered in a singsong voice.
"Ain't he the han'somest man you ever seen?"
"Not at all," Lizzy fibbed, intending to ease Betsy's jealousy. "I quite prefer Mr. Smith." Lizzy did, in fact, prefer Smith, but only because he seemed so much more amiable. Moreover, she had no romantic notions about either man.
"Eliza, you're needed," Lizzy turned to see Jenny, who was the head upstairs maid, approaching. She colored immediately, hoping in vain that the older woman had not overheard her comments. Unfortunately, Jenny was a prolific gossip, and by the next morning every servant at Matlock would have heard that young Elizabeth was sweet on Mr. Smith and thought him handsomer than the generally preferred Mr. Parker. Smith was flattered by Elizabeth's supposed preference, and it caused him to think more about the young girl than he otherwise might. Conversely, Parker felt challenged by the knowledge, and it planted in him a desire to change her mind.
"Have more guests arrived?"
"Captain Fitzwiliam has arrived with Lady Constance."
"Lady Constance?"
"We didn't know she was comin' home, least Pringle said nothin' of it."
"Who is Lady Constance?"
"The youngest of the Fitzwilliams, of course." Elizabeth looked in surprise at Jenny, wondering how she had worked at Matlock for over two months without knowing her master and mistress had a daughter.
"Oh."
"She's been at some fancy school in London for years, and 'most never comes home."
"Even in the summer?" asked Elizabeth in shock.
"It's said Lady Matlock don't much like her."
"Not like her own daughter?" gasped an even more astonished Elizabeth.
"Yes. Some says it's 'cause she's plain and some says it's 'cause she's crippled, but I reckon it's because Lady Constance don't care a lick for gowns and bonnets and all them fashionable whatnots great ladies are supposed to rave over"
"The poor girl!" Jenny shook her head at Eliza calling her mistress's daughter poor.
"Anyway, you're to be her maid so you best be gettin' her room ready, and seein' she's ready for dinner. I'll take care of the colonel and the Darcys. But you'll still need to tidy their chambers tomorrow." Lizzy dashed off in a hurry to complete her new assignment. However, when she was halfway up the stairs she turned around and dashed back.
"Is there a problem, Eliza?" Betsy wondered.
"Where's Lady Constance's room at?" Betsy, who had not been able to prevent herself from envying her friend for receiving such a special task, felt somewhat better to see her friend so flustered that she forgot to use the King's perfect English. Thus, she cheerfully offered Lizzy the information she needed.
When Elizabeth approached the lady's chambers, she heard angry shouts. She hesitated, but decided to enter.
Though she had not known what to expect, Elizabeth was surprised by the sight that greeted her. Lady Constance was a mere slip of a girl, probably no older than sixteen. She had flaming red hair which framed her face in a fringe of frizzles. Lady Constance's skin was as pale as new milk, except for the places where she was dappled with bright pink splotches and the reddish brown freckles which dotted her cheeks. Elizabeth did not notice any deformities, though she would later learn that Constance Fitzwilliam had lost half of her left foot due to an infection she had suffered as a small child.
Lady Constance gasped when Elizabeth entered, but Lady Matlock continued addressing her daughter without pausing. Lizzy understood then that her mistress considered her no more than she did the room's wallpaper.
"You cannot wear that gown, Constance. It is two seasons old and the color is completely unfashionable."
"Why must I look fashionable? There is no one here to impress. The only eligible young man who will be here is Cousin Darcy, and he would no more consider me than he would Georgiana!"
"You must know I expect you to catch Lord Barkely."
"But Mother, he is old enough to be my grandfather."
"You cannot expect to attract anyone better!"
"Of course, Mother," Lady Constance mumbled quietly. Elizabeth saw Lady Constance's pained expression, and remember how she had often been hurt by Mr. Clipper's cruel words. A desire to comfort the girl surged within her.
"So you must absolutely look your best. You must discard this old gown. None of your gowns are suitable, but I will have several of my own gowns brought to you. Surely something can be made suitable for you. You will have to tighten your stays." Lady Constance blushed and bit her tongue. She was not wearing stays; indeed, she had never worn them, and she had no wish to start.
Elizabeth began unpacking Lady Constance's trunks while Lady Matlock continued to lecture her daughter. However, as soon as Lady Matlock left the room, Elizabeth rushed to the young lady's side, handing her a handkerchief.
"How would you like your hair styled this evening, my lady?" asked Elizabeth, hoping Lady Constance's request would not be too complicated, since she was not skilled in styling hair.
"I believe I should like it to be cropped close to my head, almost shaved. I should dearly love to see my mother's face." Lizzy giggled.
"But then you would need to wait years to grow it back. Besides it seems like a crime to cut such beautiful locks."
"Beautiful? My hair is ugly. It is so bright and orange."
"Nonsense! Other ladies only make snide remarks about red hair because they wish their hair was such a rich, vibrant color."
"Oh? And why do the boys tease me?"
"Perhaps because they are too afraid of you?" Lady Constance laughed awkwardly.
"How could anyone fear me?" Lizzy almost made a snide remark about the young lady's mother, but she thankfully remembered her place and bit back her retort.
"Perhaps because of the inner beast you are concealing." Lady Constance blushed and also appeared somewhat offended.
"You think I have beastly tendencies?"
"Forgive me, my lady. I only meant to make a joke. I have barely met you, how could I have made any judgments."
"Do you think I am unaware that servants gossip?" Lady Constance retorted scoffingly.
"My lady, an hour ago I was not even aware that the earl and countess had a daughter."
"Oh," Constance murmured, seeming to deflate. Lizzy noticed her manners, and wondered if the girl would prefer to be infamous than to be unknown.
"I have no reason to believe you are anything other than a very good sort of girl."
"I am sorry to say that you were correct, though."
"About what was I correct?"
"I do have an inner beast. Sometimes I want to grab my mother by the hair and yank on it. And rub lotions on her face that make it burn. And force her to wear dresses that are so itchy that she wishes to scratch herself to death. Sometimes I detest my mother." Lizzy wanted to tell Lady Constance that she also disliked Lady Matlock, but she knew speaking such things would be entirely inappropriate.
"I have an inner beast, too. I think all of us do. But for now, we need to make you as elegant as possible so that no one will suspect you have one. While we are waiting for your mother's gowns, may I fix your hair." Lady Constance nodded, grudgingly.
"Please be careful with the tongs." Elizabeth wondered if Lady Constance would be angry that she did not know how to use curling tongs. She also wondered if she could make it through the ordeal without confessing her lack of knowledge.
"I am afraid I have no intention of using tongs. I hope you do not mind."
"I do not mind at all, but I fear my mother will not be so sanguine."
Elizabeth was silent for a moment, then admitted, "I do not know how to use curling tongs. I have never even seen them used. I will do the best I can with your hair today, but you will probably need a different maid for the rest of your stay." Lady Constance smiled at Lizzy.
"I am sure whatever you do will be fine."
Elizabeth carefully unpinned the lady's hair, and was surprised as soft beautiful curls cascaded over her shoulders. Elizabeth had expected all of Lady Constance's hair to be as dry and frizzy as her fringe.
"Your curls are lovely, my lady."
"The back part of my hair only curls because it has been coiled so tightly for so long. My hair is straight as a stick, otherwise."
"That does not make it less lovely now."
"Please do not flatter me. What is your name, again? I do not remember."
"I am Eliza, and I do not mean to flatter. Is it not my job, at least for today to make use of your finest features? We will find a way to showcase these curls."
"Do whatever you like. If my mother dislikes it, I will blame you." This was spoken with a smile, so Elizabeth smiled back. Then she began braiding a portion of the lady's hair, beginning at her left ear, and working up across her forehead. She was attempting to mimic a style she had seen old Mrs. Bloom wear in an attempt to hide her greying forelocks. Lizzy worked all of Lady Constance's fringe into the braid, and then she continued to braid around her head, like a crown. As she braided she noticed more than a dozen marks across the lady's forehead. There were two small blisters, an angry red welt, several small pink marks, and several more old scars which had already healed.
"What has happened to your head, my lady?"
"What do you mean?"
"All these scars!"
"The come from the tongs."
"They are burns?" Lady Constance nodded.
"Who burns you? Why do you allow it?"
"The maids at school, of course. I do not have my own maid there, but Mother arranged for my hair to be styled every day according to her specifications."
"Does your mother know they are burning you?" Lady Constance shook her head.
"I have tried to convince her that I do not need to have my hair constantly styled. I have told her I despise the curling tongs. Mother says I am not to complain and such things are part of being a lady."
"But you have not told her about the burns." Again Lady Constance shook her head.
Once the braid circled Lady Constance's entire head, Lizzy continued braiding a little farther. Then she pinned the braid down and toyed with the rest of the hair. Lizzy pinned and unpinned several different times. She added multiple twists; then she removed some. Lizzy simply could not make Lady Constance's hair look like it did in her mind. However, eventually she decided that she needed to finish the coiffure. So she called the hairstyle good enough. The braids looked fine, and the curls were lovely. However, there was at least twice as much hair cascading down Lady Constance's right side as her left. Lizzy decided she would pretend to have done it on purpose.
"Would you like to see yourself in the glass, my lady?"
"No thank you," Lady Constance answered without thought. "I want you to stop working on my hair."
"Very well. Shall we select a gown now."
"You choose. I am certain they are all equally dreadful."
Elizabeth looked at the ten gowns which Lady Matlock's maid had delivered. She immediately rejected six of them because she did not feel the colors flattered Lady Constance's complexion. She then examined the remaining four and selected the one which seemed the least scratchy. That its pale green hue complemented the lady's coloring was merely an added bonus.
After removing Lady Constance's underthings, Elizabeth could not help pausing to stare at the young lady. Never had she seen a lady with such a perfectly formed figure. She had no failures of symmetry, and her skin was lustrous and creamy. Elizabeth stood in awe of Lady Constance, much as one might in the face of a great work of art. Unfortunately, Lady Constance misunderstood her stares.
"I know it is terrible."
"Excuse me?" Lady Constance held out her disfigured foot. "I had not noticed, my lady."
"You cannot deny you were staring."
"Indeed," Lizzy admitted with chagrin, "I was merely amazed by your loveliness. You are like Aphrodite."
"Aphrodite?" Now Constance knew very well who the Greek Goddess of love was, but she was astonished to hear a maidservant make such a comparison.
"Aye, my lady. When I was a small girl Papa sometimes called Mama his Aphrodite. I asked him why, and he showed me a painting of the goddess. He said Mama looked just like her, but she did not have such perfect curves as you." The recollection brought Elizabeth both pleasure and pain.
"Eliza! Stop spouting such nonsense. I know I have a dreadful figure. Mother tells me so. I cannot abide wearing corsets."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth paused and blushed, then continued, "We could find a way to lift your bust without restricting your waist? Your waist is trim enough that your mother's dress will fit easily. I do not know why she thought otherwise."
"Could we try putting the gown on without any stays, please?"
"I cannot imagine it fitting, my lady. Nevertheless, I see no harm in making the attempt."
After helping Lady Constance into a clean chemise and petticoat, Lizzy slid the selected gown over them. She first tried to pull the gown down over the lady's head, but it proved to be impossible. Lizzy could not stop herself from giggling. Then she lay the gown down and asked Lady Constance to step into it.
At first Lizzy did not think the gown would be usable; however, after careful consideration, she decided that a few alterations would make the gown passable. If she took in some fabric in the shoulders, and at the waist the bodice of the dress could hold up Lady Constance's bosom and shorten the length of the gown sufficiently to avoid hemming. It would place the waist of the dress just under Lady Constance's bust instead of at her true waist, but Lizzy had seen similar styles in a few of the magazines in Mr. Clipper's haberdashery.
Lizzy eased the gown off of Lady Constance, explaining her plan as she did. Lady Constance favored any plan which would not require her to wear the dreaded stays, so she gave Elizabeth permission to do as she wished. Then she extracted her sewing box from her still unpacked trunk, and handed it to her maid.
Elizabeth sewed feverishly, so that Lady Constance might be dressed in time for dinner. As she sewed, Lady Constance sat and read. Lizzy could not tell what she was reading, for the title was written in Greek. At least, Lizzy thought it was Greek, though she was not entirely certain. For a brief moment a well of envy erupted within her, but she pushed it down, reminding herself that at least she did not have anyone burning her forehead everyday.
Lady Constance sighed in displeasure when Elizabeth informed her that her gown was ready. However, she stood and allowed Elizabeth to dress her without complaint. As with her hair, she opted not to use the looking glass before departing from her chambers.
Once Lady Constance departed, Lizzy began earnestly unpacking her trunks. Lizzy was relieved to see that the lady's trunks contained far more books than they did gowns, for she felt much more confident in her ability to put these away properly. However, she did try her best to stow each item correctly.
Elizabeth spent several hours attending Lady Constance's belongings, and thus missed eating dinner with the other servants. The servant's meal had long since been cleared away. Thus, she took herself into the store room to fetch some of the brown bread which the maids ate for breakfast. While she was in the store room several servants entered the kitchen, loudly discussing the Fitzwilliam family and all of their dinner guests. For reasons she could not explain to herself, she remained hidden in that little room until the voices died. Once they had, she emerged into the kitchen and was surprised to find it not vacant.
"Mr. Smith," she stated in surprise, then hastily added, "Has your master settled in well?"
"Indeed he has," the young man answered. That Elizabeth thought to ask after Lord Barkely's comfort pleased him. "He dined with the family, of course, but he retired as soon as the lady's withdrew. The trip was quite fatiguing for him."
"Lady Constance will be relieved by that," Lizzy murmured without thinking. Then she colored in embarrassment, and attempted to apologize.
Nevertheless, Mr. Smith did feel offended on behalf of his employer. Lord Barkely was a kind gentleman who doted upon the younger two Fitzwilliam children; Smith could not bear to see his master mocked.
"Why should Lady Constance be pleased with my master's absence?"
"I fear I have carried myself into quite a quagmire, sir. If I do not reveal the who truth, you shall not believe I meant no slight to Lord Barkely, yet revealing the truth could provide considerable embarrassment to Lady Constance."
"I would think the lady should feel embarrassed for harboring negative thoughts about a man who has always been generous to her and who thinks of her quite as his own granddaughter. She has never struck me as the sort of selfish child who would resent an old man's company."
"I did not mean to imply anything of the sort, Mr. Smith. I truly should have kept silent. It is only that Lady Matlock has this idea that Lady Constance ought to be trying to attract your master's notice. Lady Matlock wishes her daughter to become the next Lady Barkely." Mr. Smith was greatly taken aback. He almost disbelieved Elizabeth's statement.
"I take it Lady Constance does not favor the match?"
"I do not know for certain. I do not believe Lady Constance is interested in marrying anyone at present. Lady Matlock's suggestion clearly surprised her. Moreover, she is not the sort of girl to readily put herself forward to anyone. The idea discomfits her. Furthermore, Lady Constance believes herself to be hideous and unattractive. I expect she believes Lord Barkely would never consider her. Thus, she is in an uncomfortable bind. If she does not put herself forward and attempt to flirt with Lord Barkely, she risks Lady Matlock's displeasure; however, if she does put herself forward, she risks appearing foolish before a respectable gentleman."
"I doubt she needs to fear. As I said before, Lord Barkely dotes on Lady Constance, he would not interpret any overtures as flirtations." Mr. Smith paused thoughtfully. "I wonder if I ought to inform my master of Lady Matlock's machinations.
"For what purpose?"
"Perhaps if he is aware, he may be able to help Lady Constance along enough so that she could satisfy her mother's demands without feeling she needs to completely sacrifice her dignity."
"I do think that would probably be good." Lizzy's belly then rumbled loudly, and she looked down in embarrassment. "Pardon me, sir. I have had nothing to eat since breakfast, and I may be called upon at any time to help Lady Constance undress." As she spoke, Elizabeth seated herself at the table where the maids usually ate their lunch.
"Please do not let me keep you from your meal." Mr. Smith then excused himself, but his mind remained focused on the young maid he left in the kitchen. Eliza's clear, proper English and fine manners set her apart from most of the young women he knew. Moreover, she was friendly and pleasing to the eye, and he believed he would enjoy becoming better acquainted with her. Of course, some of Smith's growing fondness undoubtedly resulted from a sense of gratitude for her supposed preference, for he had enough vanity to be flattered by the admiration of a pretty young girl.