Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth's descent to the ballroom was entirely uneventful and free of hidden meaning, except for the smirk they got from Georgiana as she saw her friend Lizzy walking arm in arm with her brother, and the smirk they got from Lady Matlock as she saw her hopefully future niece walking arm in arm with her lunkhead nephew, and the bright smile from Stewart who saw the possibility of finally being able to fit her mistress with a new dress and not a hand‑me‑down, or the smiles and respectful nods of all the footmen and maids, who seemed to be thicker on the route than usual by at least double. At the end, Elizabeth thought it might not have been the best strategy if she was trying to escape Pemberley, but a second perusal of the thought was that it was akin to worrying about a hangnail when you had just been shot.
When they arrived at the ballroom doors, they met Breton, who smiled enough to lighten up the room, bowed very respectfully to the mistress, and smacked the master on the arm hard enough to raise a bruise.
Not a man opposed to an opportunity for impertinence, he said.
"Miss Bennet, Darcy, it is so nice to see you so… err… harmonious?"
Fitzwilliam laughed, a sound Elizabeth still found disconcerting, but one that she could probably accustom herself to, and replied, "Remember that your courtship is to start in less than four hours, Breton, and I have a long memory."
With a huge laugh, the stablemaster replied with a proper bow to show the appropriate respect for the master of the estate, and it was only marginally injured by an impertinent smirk.
Elizabeth said, "Fitzwilliam, I have some affairs to see to in here. Please take Mr. Breton out back and see if you can beat any sense into him."
Both gentlemen roared in laughter, and Elizabeth wondered if she had made her ultimate position better or worse, or if it even mattered. She still liked to think she had a decision to make, but she could see that the Longbourn sized hole Fitzwilliam had dug for himself was smaller than Lucas Lodge already.
They entered the ballroom, but she pointed to an unobtrusive corner behind a support column where the men could see all that was happening without being easily seen, and they followed instructions like two well trained dogs.
Elizabeth then pulled on what she thought of her Mistress of Pemberley face, and went in to meet the villagers.
Most of the villagers had by now worked out that even if she was not the 'real' mistress of the estate, she carried the same whip the real mistress would carry, and they owed her their respect. There was plenty of doffing of caps from the men, which Elizabeth accepted with the best grace she could, although it was not always that good. The women of the room had quickly learned that a small curtsy followed by a genuine greeting went a long way, and a deep curtsy followed by excessive fawning led to moving their priorities to the very bottom of any list.
Elizabeth was just greeting one woman, Mrs. Hind, who was quite heavily pregnant but refused to move to a room in the family wing, when she heard a loud commotion a dozen feet away. Two boys of around seventeen years, were standing a foot or two apart, hands balled into fists, rage showing on their faces, yelling at each other loud enough to be heard upstairs. They both looked like blacksmith's sons, each being close to six feet tall, well-muscled, and apparently strong as an ox. Both appeared about ready to do some real damage to the other. The two boys, named Hatcher and Longman had been problematic before, and Elizabeth had endured just about all she intended to from them.
She glanced over to the corner with Darcy and Breton, and saw both men starting to stride her way, but she waved her hand discreetly. Darcy, as she expected, saw her signal and looked at her more carefully, while reaching out to stop Breton. She waved them back to their corner, and when Darcy showed signs of being ready to argue, she frowned with an expression that promised retribution for lack of compliance. If she could not handle two overgrown toddlers, she had no business being mistress of a great estate.
Darcy, surprised by her decision, but unwilling to contradict clear instruction when he was not at all certain he was out of the doghouse yet, decided to go along with the scheme, but God help those boys if the injured so much as a hair on his Elizabeth's head. Breton just laughed, and said, "Sit back, Darcy. You will want to see this."
Quite calmly, as if she had all day, the Mistress said a few more words to Mrs. Hind, and kissed her on the cheek. A few more words were exchanged, and the lady took Elizabeth's hand and held it on her stomach for a few seconds, which drew a huge smile from the mistress.
Then, sighing in resignation, she walked away from the expectant mother.
As she walked across the floor, Darcy could swear she got a foot taller right before his eyes. Breton just chuckled, and said, "You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, my friend."
Looking like an admittedly short Valkyrie, Elizabeth walked right up to the two boys, whose shouting match was truly getting out of hand, calmly reached up, and grabbed both boys by their ears. All appearance said that she was an inch from drawing blood, because both boys immediately stopped their shouting, and reached for their ears, before they saw that it was the Mistress of the House who had them. At that point, they both became preternaturally still.
Elizabeth held their ears, apparently squeezing with some force, until both boys looked at her, and reached up to doff their hats respectfully. Finally, after another half‑minute or so, she released them and calmly stepped back a step or two.
Both boys immediately bowed deeply, though quite clumsily and stood hat in hands, awaiting their punishment.
To the boy's surprise, but not Darcy's, she simply raised her finger, pointed to the Southwest and kept it up, while staring the boys down.
Both boys saw her finger, looked down in apparent contrition, then walked back to their sleeping areas, picked up their coats and boots, turned around and walked out the door.
Giving a slight smirk, Elizabeth carried on with her rounds. Darcy saw her approach each villager, all of whom showed her at least as much respect as they would show him, and probably more. This did not distress him in the least. If he wanted their respect in future, he reckoned he would either have to work at it, or cheat and try to get by on what Elizabeth garnered.
He saw when she approached the builder and was a bit surprised when she pulled a billfold out of a hidden pocket in her dress, passed it to him, and just shook his hand. That was apparently the transaction. He was beginning to appreciate the idea that people always treated him in his business dealings out of a combination of respect and fear. He always tried to emphasize the former by being scrupulously honest in his dealings but was willing to fall back on the later if necessary. He was beginning to get the idea that the same people would treat Elizabeth well just because they could conceive of the idea of doing differently. It was a sobering, but elevating thought.
A half‑hour later, Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves at the front door, donning outerwear. The rain had stopped for days so there was a good chance they could walk at their leisure wherever they liked without too much mud. Darcy was reminded of when Elizabeth trekked three miles in the mud to tend Jane and reckoned that mud would not be an impediment anyway… unless of course she judged the overly fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy to be unable to keep up with her, which was not an unnatural surmise.
"My lady, if you would allow me the pleasure of choice, I believe I have a path you would enjoy."
Elizabeth said, "Why is there no phrase like 'my gentleman', or 'my lunkhead'"
Fitzwilliam laughed along with her, saw Elizabeth nod and take his arm, and was happy with the result.
They walked along for nearly an hour to get to their destination. They could not really talk about the commonplaces with so much to be said, but neither could either start on the big conversation that both knew the rest of their lives would revolve around. Instead, they both spent the time alternately telling their tales, which involved quite a lot of gasped exclamations.
"Jane said WHAT? Jane Bennet made you cry? A grown man and master of an estate crying like a baby. I bet that was uncomfortable."
Much to her delight, Fitzwilliam laughed in a self‑deprecating way, and said, "I am truly quite jealous, now. You women can cry at your leisure and nobody thinks aught of it, but a man cries, and it seems shocking."
"Not SEEMS shocking. It IS shocking!"
Both laughed at it, and then the story of the discussion in the carriage did in fact leave both of them in tears.
"Elizabeth, you do realize you are the first horsewoman?"
Nodding her head in embarrassment, she said, "Well, perhaps… Where is your high‑horse anyway? We may need him to get back to the house."
He laughed, in relief, and asked somewhat carefully.
"Elizabeth, Jane tells me you sometimes see 'visions' of people giving you advice. She recommended we not discuss it in company as it makes us sound a bit mad, but I should tell you that I have the same thing. My crying was as much about seeing my mother, who looks more like Jane's sister than you do, standing between her and Miss Taylor looking disappointed. She tried to warn me, but I did not listen."
She dragged him to a stop to look at her, and said, "Perhaps… well… perhaps your mother was not chastising you but preparing you for what fate had in store. It sounds crazy, but sometimes I think the gods of chance have been playing games specifically designed to put us together."
"And do you object to their interference?"
Elizabeth looked internally for some time, and said, "No, I do not. I would not trade my experience for anything else in the world. How many women like me have been allowed the privilege of proving their worth without first being bound in matrimony?"
"How many, indeed. If your worth was ever in doubt, which it was NOT, then today's display would have dispelled it from the most hard‑hearted observer. By the way, what did you do with those boys?"
"Why, you saw it. I just extended my finger to the Southwest."
"Which means?"
She sighed, and said, "You might find me less pleasant than you thought if I tell you."
"UNLIKELY!"
Elizabeth laughed, and said, "Well, as you well know, the Leeson pig farm is that way. I warned those boys before that behavior will not be tolerated. They are on their way to work slopping, feeding and butchering pigs for the next week, from dawn to dark. Their fathers will insure their compliance. Each day at sundown for a week, they have to bring straw and make a bed under a small overhang in the pigpen and sleep there for the night."
Fitzwilliam laughed uproariously, while Elizabeth vacillated between embarrassment and laughter, with laughter being the clear victor.
They discussed the arrangements that had been made for those that had died at Pemberley, and the current state of the Measles victims. It seemed likely that Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper and Mr. Nelson, the butler, would make complete recoveries. Elizabeth was unhappy that she had not tended them. She thought she could have done so safely but had been overruled by the senior members of the staff who did not want to take any chances.
Fitzwilliam told about the last assembly in Meryton, which left Elizabeth laughing uproariously.
Elizabeth said, "You realize Anne is probably taken now. She could look a hundred years and not find a better man than Jason."
Curiously, Fitzwilliam asked, "So why have none of the Bennet girls snapped him up?"
"Good question… well, to tell the truth he has always seen all of us in a fraternal way, and it is hard to dislodge an idea like that. Then of course, none of us have any fortune whatsoever, and he IS a third son. He would double Rosings income though."
Fitzwilliam snorted, and said, "Such low ambitions. I am certain you are just being polite. He could do that by just refraining from some of my aunt's more ostentatious displays."
Elizabeth laughed, and agreed it was so.
"You know your aunt will never accept him."
"Yes, but Anne has… well…"
She looked at him encouragingly.
"This experience has changed Anne as much as it has changed me. Richard and I have been trying to get her to break out of a self‑imposed exile for years, but well… forcing her always seemed a bad idea. She met Jane, and something… well, something fit. They make each other braver. I will not pretend to understand it, but since my entire responsibility consists of having enough sense to stay out of their way, I believe I can manage it."
The lady laughed, and let the subject go for a moment. She thought she probably should feel a stab of jealousy at being so easily replace in Jane's affections, but the very idea was anathema.
After an hour, they arrived and Fitzwilliam said, "Here we are, my lady."