## Chapter 6 Mr. Darcy

Mr. Darcy stared at the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He had been in high spirits arriving home that morning, and then it had all turned into a boondoggle of the worst kind. At the thought of what Elizabeth must think of him now, considering she had covered her head and nearly refused to look at him, he threw back the contents of his glass.

Tapping at the door proceeded Mrs. Reynold's entrance. "You called for me, sir?"

He studied his housekeeper. "Did something happen to Miss Bennet?"

Mrs. Reynolds was uncharacteristically flustered. "She… she chose to depart."

"Do you know why she was bundled into the dirty blanket given to her at the lake?"

The woman wrung her hands. "I do not, sir. Her clothes had not even arrived yet from Lambton. I have ordered — "

Knocking interrupted the interrogation, much to Mr. Darcy's irritation. "Enter!"

A maid, young with thick black hair piled on the back of her head, entered and after a glance at him, lowered her head.

Mrs. Reynolds pinched her lips when the maid entered. Mr. Darcy had never seen the housekeeper in such a mood before. "What did you do to Miss Bennet? Explain yourself!"

The maid flinched. "I did what you told me to. I gave her Abigail's dress, I laid it on the bed in the guest room where Miss Bennet was taking her bath."

Mr. Darcy frowned. He did not know any member of his staff with that name. "Abigail's dress?"

"Yes, sir." She clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles were white. "Abigail, the cook. Mrs. Reynolds told me— "

"I did no such thing! I would have never — "

"Stop, please. Mrs. Reynolds, if I am to sort out this matter, I need to hear an accounting from the maid. Please, continue." Mr. Darcy sat on the edge of his chair, eager to ascertain why Miss Bennet had refused to stay at Pemberley until one of her dresses was delivered from Lambton.

The maid burst into tears. Her face was quickly undergoing a transformation from pale white to red and blotchy. It was evident she would not continue her story unless prompted. "Maid — what is your name? I cannot address you as a maid."

The young maid tried to get herself under control, but not fast enough for Mrs Reynolds. "She is Sally. I promoted her to upstairs maid several weeks ago, a mistake, to be sure."

Hard crying recommenced at that pronouncement.

Mr. Darcy sighed. "Mrs. Reynolds, could you please wait in the hall? I fear I will not get the full accounting with you presently."

The housekeeper twitched her skirts then with a small nod she swept out of the study, closing the door behind her.

"Now, Sally, please calm yourself." She cried harder.

Mr. Darcy rubbed a hand down his face. He should have remembered the other times he had tried to calm a female by telling her to calm down. It never, ever had worked and indeed had only made matters worse. "Sally, have a seat and pour yourself a cup of tea. I would like to hear what Mrs. Reynolds' orders were for you. I know you completed the task exactly how you were requested, which is why I am eager to hear the instructions you were given."

That did the trick. Sally wiped her eyes while still breathing heavily, the result of crying strenuously. After taking a minute to compose herself, and several sips of tea, she glanced up at Mr. Darcy before her eyes darted down to the cup of tea in her hands. "It was like I said, sir. Mrs. Reynolds said for me to get Abigail's dress and take it to Miss Bennet."

He frowned, knowing those instructions could not have been uttered by his housekeeper. Yet this young girl was adamant it had. She was too distraught and shocked at Mrs. Reynold's denial to be lying. "Could you repeat exactly what Mrs. Reynolds said? Word for word."

"Abigail, get a dress in Miss Bennet's size and bring it to her."

Mr. Darcy groaned and sat back in his chair. If he was correct, this explained why Elizabeth had run away hiding under a blanket.

"Please let Mrs. Reynolds in."

After the housekeeper returned, full of starch, Mr. Darcy rubbed his face and willed himself to not laugh at the sheer amount of absurdity that had happened to him in one day.

"I believe I have solved the problem," Mr. Darcy stated. He looked at Mrs. Reynolds' stern face before landing his gaze on the still blotchy young maid, Sally. "You have moved from Wales recently?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Did you know that abigail is a common word in England to mean lady's maid?" Confusion overcame Sally's face, much better than the fear and shame that it had replaced. "So when Mrs. Reynolds said Abigail, she meant you, not the cook, Abigail."

Sally burst into tears.

Mrs. Reynolds was gobsmacked. "I never—that was certainly not what I meant, Mr. Darcy! I would—," she turned to the maid in horror. "Sally, what dress did you give her?"

Sally cried harder.

Mr. Darcy leaned an elbow on the desk and rested his head in his hand.

"Why," stated Mrs. Reynolds in a voice much louder than usual, "did you not stop to think! You know I would have never ordered you to bring a servant's uniform for any guest to wear!"

"I could not question your orders, Mrs. Reynolds!"

Knocking at the door to his study joined the pounding in his head. He sat up straight in his wingback chair. "Enter!"

A footman, holding a bag, stepped in. He could not keep his eyes off the hysterically crying maid.

"Yes, Mr. Entwhistle?"

"I, er, have the clothing for Miss Bennet, sir. From the Lambton Inn."

Mr. Darcy closed his eyes hoping this was a farcical nightmare and he would awaken. He opened his eyes to find the same scene, except the footman was now staring at him. "Thank you, however, Miss Bennet departed without waiting for her clothing. Please, return it directly."

The footman opened his mouth, quickly closed it, then after another glance at the crying maid, he quit the room, closing the door behind him.

The glass of whiskey beguiling called to him, but Mr. Darcy pushed it aside. He was not given to drink, and even though today was quite trying already, he would not succumb to that vice.

A loud sniffle caught his attention. "Will… will I be dismissed?"

Mr. Darcy answered quickly, before the housekeeper could. "No, you will not be dismissed. It was an… understandable mistake."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Dar— "

Knocking at the door interrupted the maid. Mr. Darcy withheld himself from groaning at the slightest of margins. "Enter."

"There is a Mr. Gardiner here for you, sir," announced a footman.

Mr. Darcy rubbed his face. This was not at all in any manner how he had expected this day to go. It was a never-ending nightmare.

"Wait a few minutes, then send him in," he ordered the footman. "Sally, you are dismissed. Mrs. Reynolds, stay. I would not think Mr. Gardiner would believe… this… Sally?"

The maid was swaying and looked as if she had seen a specter. Then she burst into tears. Again. "You said you were not going to dismiss me. My Mam will be —"

Mr. Darcy jumped up from his chair, ready to catch the quite pale young maid swaying where she stood. "No, you misunderstood me. You are not dismissed as in — sacked. You are still employed here as an upstairs maid. I am just dismissing you from my presence from this room."

He reached the young maid and touched her arms to assure her that he was sincere.

And that was how Mr. Gardiner found them. "Upon my word!"

Mr. Darcy stepped back from the maid, who had thankfully had stopped crying again. After a quick explanation regarding Sally's tears, which lead to an explanation of how a maid's uniform was erroneously given to Miss Bennet, Mr. Gardiner no longer looked ready to beat Mr. Darcy about the head with his walking stick.

"That is quite the tale." Mr. Gardiner glanced at the maid who had started sniffling again.

"I assure you Mr. Gardiner, it was never my intention to insult your niece in this manner — indeed — Sally, please stop crying. You are not dismissed. Go to the kitchens for luncheon," he turned to Mr. Gardiner, "unless you have had any more questions regarding Miss Bennet's care while she was under my roof?"

Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. "Indeed, I do. Your maid from Wales, not understanding that abigail meant lady's maid, is understandable. But it does not signify why there was no maid present to braid my niece's hair nor button up her dress."

Mr. Darcy's gaze darted to Sally, who blanched.

"Sally, do you have an explanation for this?"

The young maid, now flushing with red, wrung her hands as she stared down at the rug under her boots and mumbled a response.

Mrs. Reynolds placed her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Speak up, we cannot hear you."

The girl sniffled and answered while her head was still lowered. "I thought she would be in the bath longer, sir. I needed…," her voice grew faint, barely able to hear, but the words were unmistakable. "Needed to use the necessary."

Mr. Darcy closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear. He sighed, then opened his eyes and hoped he had, if not a pleasant, then not a terrifying visage. The young maid had been tormented enough. "Thank you, Sally. Please, go to the kitchen and have your luncheon now."

Sally curtsied and darted out of the room as if her skirts were on fire.

Mr. Darcy rubbed his forehead. He could not imagine another situation that could have put him in more of a bad light than the series of events that had occurred that day. "Mrs. Reynolds, could you order tea? Mr. Gardiner, please have a seat."

Mrs. Reynolds quit the room and Mr. Gardiner sat heavily in the wingback chair in front of Mr. Darcy's desk. The only sounds in the room were the fire crackling and the grandfather clock ticking. After several minutes, Mrs. Reynolds led a footman into the study with the tea tray and sandwiches. Mr. Darcy had it placed on the table next to mr. Gardiner. He could not eat. The events of the day and the loss of Elizabeth's good will weighing heavily on his mind.

Mr. Darcy leaned back in his chair as Mr. Gardiner sipped his tea and ate a cucumber sandwich. He studied the older man who had been congenial until his niece had been catapulted into Mr. Darcy's lake. He would not be surprised if Mr. Gardner did not want his niece attached to a man whose estate was in such disarray.

"Well," said Mr. Gardner while wiping crumbs off his hands with a serviette, "that explains quite a bit. The poor maid must have been beside herself, thinking she would be dismissed."

It was telling that the man was concerned for the servant. The Darcys had always prided themselves on treating their staff well. "Yes, she was nearly unconsolable."

He cleared his throat, feeling sheepish. But it was not every day that you met with a young lady's guardian to work out a marriage contract after one of your sheep compromised you and the young lady.

"How is Miss Bennet? She has not caught a chill?"

Mr. Gardiner picked up another cucumber sandwich. "Oh, no. My niece has a sturdy constitution. Once she changed into her own clothes, she was back to her usual spirits." He ate it in two bites, sipped his tea, then lowered the tea cup to the table and leveled a steady gaze upon the younger man. "My wife and I found you and my niece in the lake together. Her clothing was… well, I know you are a respectable gentleman. I trust you will you do the honorable thing?"

Mr. Darcy admired a man that did not waste breath and knew their mind. The faster he could get done with this uncomfortable discussion, the better. "Yes. There is a solicitor in Lambton that will be arriving shortly to draw up the marriage contract. Let us discuss the particulars. I would like the solicitor to conclude our business in a modicum of time."

Relief seemed to settle on Mr. Gardiner, who nodded with a smile and his usual jovial nature once again asserted itself while he and the wealthiest man in Derbyshire discussed what properties, valuables and allowance would be settled upon the man's niece.

So, I had planned on finishing the story by June 15th and publish it by the end of the month. However, my body had other plans.

Short story: I had a root canal May 26th, ended up in the ER on the 30th and was diagnosed with heart failure. I was in the hospital for 4 days. I've been in the ER again since then.

Long story: I had covid in March 2020 which left me exhausted, intermittent shortness of breath and 13,000 PVCs (premature ventricular contractions) a day. My new cardiologist says tests show I had heart failure at least a year ago, but my old cardiologist said everything was fine. It was not fine.

The right side of my heart is enlarged and I have intermittent chest pressure though it does not seem to be related to my heart. My gallbladder might have decided to kick the bucket too. Tests are getting run to figure that out.

So, I'm learning to live with heart failure. It's the uncommon kind, diastolic heart failure. It means my heart is stiff but not weak.

I'm just starting to work on my manuscripts again.

Send good vibes, healing energy and prayers that my heart shrinks to normal, that I have lots of energy and get all my stories currently in my head and in progress published.