Thank you for your continued support and encouragement and all the new title suggestions. I picked Vindicating a Man of Consequence based on Charlotte's comment to Elizabeth at the Netherfield ball in Chapter 18 that she should "not . . . be a simpleton and allow her fancy for Wickham . . . make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence" and the discussion in Chapter 40 between Elizabeth and Jane about "Darcy's vindication" in regards to Wickham. This current chapter made me think about who a man of consequence would be and that made me think of those scenes. I'm glad to finally have some time to write some more and escape with you all from the very frustrating reality of having to parent my teenage daughter who though named Elizabeth acts a lot more like a Lydia. The last three days have been all about trying to put out fires. So even if I didn't want to wake up at 4am local time, at least I can do something productive with it and finally write the chapters that have been forming in my head.
I hesitated before replying to the missive. I had no wish to associate myself with that groveling syncophant but my mother had stressed the importance of replying to correspondence. I finally wrote back because Mr. Collins was currently my only link to Miss Elizabeth. I kept my reply short but cordial and wished good health to himself and all his relations. I wished I'd had a chance to talk with her and explain. If only she had given a hint that she desired that, I would have hope and be willing to bear the open derision that I feared awaited me in Meryton.
A few days later, Bingley surprised me when he announced his intention to return to Netherfield. He told me he had to discover whether Miss Bennet had the true regard for him that he believed she might, find the truth behind the letter from Mr. Collins in regard to the Bennets and the town, and not give in to fear. His sisters had tried to dissuade him as it was but a few days shy of Christmas, but he said he would rather miss their merrymaking than miss a chance at love. Though I had often seen Bingley in love before, he had a different earnestness about him this time so I wished him God speed, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a smile. If he had asked me to accompany him I would have, in the service of a friend, but said nought to him of this sudden impulse; it would not have been right to leave Georgiana at this time of year.
During the Christmas season I was busy in London appearing at some amusements of my aunt's and other outings she arranged. As always, her son Edwin was to squire me to and fro but I begged off many in favor of quiet evenings at my house, spent with my sister Georgiana and her companion.
I had told Georgiana of my regard for a Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Herfordshire, but that I feared George Wickham's lies about our association had poisoned her against me. I hated bringing up his hateful name to her but if I had not shielded her from all his actions while we were at school and university, she would have never been the victim of his ploy. She wrapped her slim arms around me and vowed to do all she could to correct Miss Bennet's misapprehensions if given the opportunity. She let me mourn, but also tried to distract my from my morose thoughts with lively tunes and games.
Christmas without our mother was painful as she had gained her eternal reward but days after the previous holiday. In many ways she had finally come into her own unfettered by my father's iron will and Aunt Matilda's interference. It had not been easy for her, though.
When my father had passed, my mother was deeply depressed and passive when she needed to take charge. I had attempted to complete my last term at university, but was summoned home mere weeks later by Georgiana's missive. She was surprisingly coherent for a girl barely eleven who had just begun corresponding with me months before, mostly to enclose her lastest drawings. She wrote, "Please come home brother, Aunt Matty has changed everything and mother will not eat. Aunt Matty says because she is father's sister she is in charge."
As master of Pemberly and my mother's son, I soon found my sister's account confirmed in all its particulars, save that it was all worse then what Georgiana conveyed. Aunt Matilda had appointed herself true mistress and was arranging the running of the Pemberly household to suit herself. Her many small changes and plans for large ones had to be stopped yet I hesitated in how best to address the problem.
My first concern was for the health of my mother. My selfish aunt had replaced each of our favorites on the menu with her own at a time when my mother had to be encouraged to eat food in sufficient nourishing quantities. As a consequence my mother had become further gaunt from when I had left and I was worried she would sicken and leave us, too.
So my first order of business was speaking to the housekeeper and head cook, something that is usually the mistress's domain. As I have mentioned, it is very difficult for me to talk to people I do not know well. While I have known Mrs. Reynolds almost my whole life, I had few interactions speaking with her and certainly none as the master and had not met the new head cook before. I would have to set the tone for my our new relationship without understanding all the clues that govern human interactions.
First I asked them to explain the changes in the menu and confirmed it was as I had thought. The head cook was a new employee hired by my aunt, with the old one demoted. I apologized for terminating that employment but told them it was unauthorized and the cook could either remain as the second in charge or receive a letter of reference, but was to have no further interaction with my aunt. I then sent for the old head cook, reinstated her and then conveyed my worries for my mother's health to her and Mrs. Reynolds. I ordered the menus returned to their previous state with one exception: Anything they could remember or discover was particularly toothsome to my mother should be added at once. There were to be no more lavish meals without my or my mother's direction. Any guests of my aunt's would be served the ordinary household meals.
While mother continued to take her meals in her room with Georgiana, I properly dressed for dinner that night and escorted my Aunt Matilda to the table. She was entertaining guests who had no business being there in light of the recency of my father's (her brother's) passing. I saw her look of surprise and perhaps horror as the one course meal was served, consisting of soup, bread and a humble cottage pie. At least she acted a proper hostess. While I did my duty to her guests, I said nothing that was not necessary and my stony visage served me well. When the meal concluded, the guests made excuses and departed.
My aunt had the gall to confront me when they left. She yelled, "How dare you usurp my role and change my meals! While a simpleton like you may enjoy meat from a previous meal disguised with potatoes in a pie, persons of consequence expect better!"
By doing so she provided me the very words I needed correct her. But I did not respond immediately while I collected my thoughts and planned my words. "Madame, a woman of consequence would not entertain guests so shortly after her brother's passing with food provided from said dead man's coffers to try to impress the simpletons who believe it appropriate to ignore her lapse in propriety in issuing said invitations. A woman of consrquence would not ignore her sister's suffering and add to it with food she cannot stomach. A woman of consequence would not bully servants who have served her family with true loyalty for many years. You try my patience, madame."
"You are no true master of Pemberly," she said with a smirk, "he counted on me and not you to protect his legacy. You must give proper deference to your superiors in age and mind. I have known you since the cradle with your unnatural interests, the ribbons and the like. You required a firm hand to improve at all. Your father coddled you overmuch by not allowing your nanny free reign and look what has resulted, a man others deride who should be resident in an asylum, not polluting our line."
I began shaking with her words. I felt such powerful anger well up from me that I desired to strike her. I remembered the terrible tantrums I had in the nursery, the walls I had broken in the school room, the broken down old cart I had ripped pieces off of with my hands until they bled, but did nothing.
"Madame, you will live at Pemberly no more." I left her there, her threats and entreaties ignored. Fortunately there were no terms in my father's will giving her authority, merely the gift of the small estate he had purchased from her husband when mismanagement had required they give up their last remaining property and live on my father's largess. The plans he had made to direct Pemberly and my conduct towards George and others were separate recommendations that had no force of law. I had my men remove her the following day to her property three counties away. She had a portion of her dowry and some support from her departed husband he had retained by living with us. I resolved to think on her no more.