Elizabeth found great pleasure in sitting in the common room of the inn for her meal, and an hour or two after she finished. She sat in a corner with Laura to keep her company, and the young girl told her all about everyone who passed through for supper, even though Elizabeth suspected two thirds of it was made up on the spot. The girl had a vivid imagination, which Elizabeth very much appreciated.
The patrons were mostly travelers, with a new batch coming in every half‑hour or hour. Some came in noses fully in the air demanding private rooms or this or that, and Elizabeth found some real simple amusement in the process, while wondering how long it would be until she acted just like that.
While she sat there, she reflected on the day. That morning, she had been Miss Elizabeth Bennet, then she was a moderately beautiful bride whom her groom hardly looked at, and now, sitting in the walking dress she had used to travel the paltry three miles to Netherfield all those weeks ago, she looked no different than she had when she came through on her way to Lambton. It was turning out to be a funny day, and aside from the fact that she could almost guarantee to not have a row with her husband, the morrow was not looking very much more promising.
Fair Warning - Red
RED
Elizabeth spent most of the next two days vacillating between introspection and rage. The three Gregorys made excellent traveling companions, although other than showing basic kindness, they could not offer much in the way of support. What was she supposed to do, ask, 'Mr. Gregory, is your employer, my husband, the beast he appears to be'? The idea was preposterous enough to be good for some amusement, but obviously not a practical solution to anything.
Elizabeth did wonder how in the world she could try to learn more about her husband. In the moments where she imagined that he was under some sort of enormous pressure she did not understand, she managed to consider him the third of fourth worst husband in the world. When she thought about what she knew, and what she had experienced personally, he went back to thinking him the worst. If she believed Mr. Wickham, he seemed very bad indeed, but if she believed her husband who said Mr. Wickham was a liar, she knew nothing. If her husband was as bad as Mr. Wickham said, then he would have no qualms about calling that man a liar, so all in all, she knew nothing – less than nothing, really.
At least half the time she amused herself by laughing at her own pretensions. 'Worst husband in the world' was amusing to think about, but she knew there were far worse husbands. To date, he was haughty, disagreeable, distrusting high handed, and ungenerous but there were plenty of men who would have claimed their husband's privileges and would not have been gentle about it. There were plenty of husbands who might beat her or do any number of terrible things, but so far, all he had done was send her to his estate alone and humiliated. She supposed she should be grateful for small mercies.
It was true he had bruised her once, but thinking back on it, she had no idea if it was deliberate or not. When her mother had started screaming at the ball, she had wanted to find someone and scratch their eyes out, so while she could not forgive her husband for her injury, whether it was deliberate or not, she thought it was probably not the most important aspect of their interaction to hold on to. Caution was called for, but she thought thinking about their conversations might be more productive. If she thought long and hard enough, she had to conclude that he had been angry about the dance conversation, but before her mother's intervention, he had done nothing worse than gently leading her to a corner where a theoretically private and yet publicly visible conversation could be had with some propriety. Things really got bad when Mrs. Bennet made her move. Did that absolve her husband of his subsequent abusive language – probably not, but perhaps he was not entirely to blame.
In between all this ever so important thinking, she tried to work out a practical way to learn more about her husband and came up short. She would soon be surrounded by servants who were not only of a completely different world, but they were also completely dependent on her husband. Were they going to give her an accurate representation of the man? Hardly! Even asking or snooping around about it seemed like it would be beneath her – not that she would let that bother her. At that point, she was already lying through her teeth, so there was very little subterfuge she would consider beneath her. She thought that perhaps not every employee could successfully hide their thoughts, but she needed to be extremely careful. Someday, if she survived the position, she might actually need to be mistress of that estate, and poisoning her own bed, just to gain probably inaccurate and useless information about her husband, seemed like a stupid idea. In the end, she thought being observant would be useful, but asking questions, more likely to be harmful than helpful.
The people of the surrounding villages, Lambton or Kympton, might be more useful but they brought the same problem. They were all to some extent dependent on Pemberley, and they were unlikely to be overly forthcoming. She would never know if a bad assessment was true, or the villager reacting to something the elder Mr. Darcy had done twenty years ago. Even Mr. Bartlet seemed like he would not be all that useful, since Mr. Darcy was obviously an aficionado of books. It seemed incomprehensible that Mr. Darcy would never buy books in Lambton, and even if the bookseller would give an accurate representation, it would hardly be fair to drag it out of him.
All the hours of introspection left her with an absolutely clear conviction that one of three things were true. Either her husband was a better man than he appeared to be; he was worse; or he was about the same – so not much to show for all the consternation.
When Mr. Gregory drove through Lambton, Elizabeth thought about stopping to visit Mr. Bartlet, but decided against the plan. She was to be five miles away, probably for the rest of her life, and at least for the next six months. There was plenty of time for that later. She also thought about taking refreshments at the inn just in case Mr. Baker was there to haul her back to where she belonged, but she had to chuckle at the thought. In the end, she thought she may as well just get on with it, so they drove on without stopping. She did appreciate Mr. Gregory asking her though. She was unaccustomed to having any say on where she travelled, unless she was on her own two feet, and a five-mile walk was hardly an impediment to visiting the village for a lady who had once walked to London.
Elizabeth tried to imagine coming as a tourist. In some other, happier life, it would not have been outside the realm of possibility. Her aunt and uncle had at one point spoken of taking her on a long trip, perhaps to the lakes, perhaps to Derbyshire, since Aunt Gardiner remembered Lambton fondly. On her wedding day, Elizabeth had asked her aunt what she knew about Mr. Darcy, but they were a decade apart in age, and traveled in vastly different social circles; so she knew nothing but that the village depended to a large extent on Pemberley. The elder Mr. Darcy had been considered mostly fair and equitable, but the family was not known for socializing with villagers. Mr. Darcy's mother was the daughter of an Earl, and apparently comported herself as such. Aunt Gardiner had offered to write to her acquaintances, but Elizabeth had demurred, thinking there was no need to start gossip in one more village – especially when none of her acquaintances were likely to be any better informed. In the end, off to Pemberley she was bound.
The park was very large and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. Elizabeth thought that might be the only good part of this whole endeavor. To the best of her knowledge, she had nothing to accomplish in the next six months. She was unlikely to make any friends of any consequence if she could not call or accept calls, and she had no idea which neighbors her husband considered acceptable were. She obviously would not be writing to her 'family and friends' in Meryton, since she had neither, so there was little for her to accomplish other than learning these lovely woods in some detail.
They gradually ascended for half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned.
In a better frame of mind, without the sword of Damocles hanging over her, Elizabeth might very well have been delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. In her daydream of visiting with her relatives, she could imagine all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she very well might have felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something! Instead, all she had was what appeared to be a very nice prison. The things she thought she could easily love were obviously the work of many generations, and her husband could not be given credit for anything other than having enough sense or laziness to leave well enough alone.
To nobody's surprise, Elizabeth found herself greeted by none but an older woman and man, both about her parent's age, whom she guessed to be the Butler and housekeeper. In a normal marriage, the new mistress of the estate would probalby be introduced to all of the staff by the master, but that was not to be.
"Mrs. Darcy, welcome to Pemberley", said the man with a bow and and the inperturbable expression common to those of his profession. Elizabeth occasionally wondered how many hours practicing before a mirror had been required to master it, but had never asked such an impertinent question.
He continued, "I am Jennings, your butler."
"And I am Mrs. Reynolds, your housekeeper, Madam."
Elizabeth liked the look of Mrs. Reynolds, mostly because she seemed like the no nonsense matrons she had always gravitated towards on her truncated efforts at escape. She was under no illusions that the housekeeper was on her side, per se, but she liked to imagine that she would at least be neutral.
Feeling extremely awkward, she said, "Good afternoon. As you have surmised, I am Elizabeth Darcy."
Mrs. Reynolds said, "I will show you to a place to refresh yourself, and then we have laid out some tea and a few biscuits in the yellow parlor, if you have no objections, Mrs. Darcy."
"That sounds lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds."
They all trooped into the house, where the butler helped Elizabeth out of her coat and gloves. She had exchanged her bonnet for a black mobcap, so she kept it on. Elizabeth felt all the awkwardness of the situation, but felt some sympathy for the two retainers, who were almost certainly suffering double or treble the discomfort. While her husband had left her in quite an untenable position, how much more awkward must it be for them.
Elizabeth spent a quarter hour in a retiring room, and found Mrs. Reynolds waiting patiently to escort her to the famous Yellow Parlor. They entered, and Mrs. Reynolds asked Mrs. Darcy how she liked her tea. Trying to pretend this was a normal, everyday occurrence, Elizabeth gave her preferences, and then asked both butler and housekeeper if they might attend her in a half hour after she had taken some tea and biscuits, to which they readily agreed.
Left alone in what Elizabeth had to admit was quite an enchanting parlor, she settled back to try to calm her shattered nerves. The room was small and personal, and Elizabeth wondered if that was the parlor used for intimate gatherings of small groups of friends, or if it was the place hardest for the other servants to spy on. In her present state of mind, she would suspect the latter, but decided that was uncharitable – probably true, but uncharitable.
Half an hour later, Jennings and Reynolds returned, and Elizabeth thought it was about time to get the awkward conversation over with.
"Mr. Jennings – Mrs. Reynolds – I know it is very unconventional, but I will ask you to either sit down or I will stand. It is your choice."
Both frowned furiously at the suggestion, but Elizabeth just waited for them to come to a decision. She thought these two could make her experience reasonably pleasant or a living Hell. She was naturally inclined towards the former, but no matter her restrictions, she was the mistress of this estate, and if she did not establish some authority, she thought she would regret it for a long time. Authority was something that once given away was difficult to retrieve.
The two seemed confused for a moment, but eventually, both joined her at the table.
Without any preamble, Elizabeth asked, "What have you heard about how things are to proceed in my husband's absence?"
The two looked at each other, and finally Jennings retrieved a letter from an inside pocket on his jacket. "Mrs. Darcy – to be frank, the instructions seem – unusual, and he did not mention your mourning at all."
"May I see the instructions?"
Jennings felt extremely uncomfortable to be asked permission for anything by the mistress of the estate, so he just handed the letter over.
Elizabeth read the note, and found it included the same restrictions her husband had outlined in the carriage on the way to Hatfield. The butler and housekeeper were to maintain the house with its present customs until his return. Elizabeth was not to call or take callers, not to entertain, not to visit the tenants, not to use the carriage more than once a once a fortnight, and not to redecorate anything save the mistress' suite. She could walk or ride as she chose, so long as she was always accompanied. She was thankful he had left off the part about not reading the books on the black shelves, not because she would disregard his instructions, but because the entire operation was humiliating enough as it was without that.
Elizabeth said, "This agrees with what he told me."
She put down the letter, looked back and forth between the two, and finally said, "It would appear, that we are to be in each other's company for quite some time, in a situation rife for mischief and misunderstanding. Does that seem a reasonable assessment to you?"
Feeling that the conversation had left the safety of propriety quite some time ago, both retainers looked at each other, and finally, Mrs. Reynolds spoke for them, saying, "To be honest, Mrs. Darcy, I do not understand any of this."
Elizabeth sighed. "Mrs. Reynolds, my husband has left me in quite a poor position, but I do not expect you to comment on that assertion. It is not your place to choose sides, nor my desire to make you do so."
Mrs. Reynolds looked at her carefully. "That is kind of you, Mrs. Darcy. I find the whole thing does not match my understanding of your husband. I have never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old."
Elizabeth frowned a bit, but then replied, "Mrs. Reynolds, I cannot really respond to that, except to say that I take you at your word – but my experience has not been in accordance with your observations."
Mrs. Reynolds saw the set of her mistress' jaw that indicated her master had been quite far from the mark, but also surmised that the topic should be closed.
Jennings, feeling most uncomfortable himself, asked, "How should we proceed, Mrs. Darcy?"
Elizabeth looked down at the hateful letter once again. "If you do not mind, I will make a clean copy of that letter and return it to you, Mr. Jennings. Then, I suppose we will settle down and wait for the master to return. Did he tell you where he was going or what he was doing?"
Neither the butler or housekeeper could guess whether the mistress did not know where her husband was bound, or she knew and wanted to know what they knew. Either way, the answer was the same.
Jennings said, "He did not say, Madam. He indicated that lives and fortunes were on the line, and the mission was one of utmost secrecy."
Elizabeth managed to not snort at his high‑handedness. "I suppose his steward knows more?"
"Yes, ma'am. He is expected to handle the master's affairs without instruction in the interim, so he probably knows more. He of course will not share it with anybody."
"Of course."
At an impasse for how to proceed, Elizabeth prepared to get on with doing something when she was interrupted by Mrs. Reynolds, who said, "Begging your pardon, Mrs. Darcy, but the master did not make arrangements for a lady's maid for you. I do not know if I should engage one or not."
Elizabeth sighed, at one more sign of either disrespect or thoughtlessness on her husband's part. "No, Mrs. Reynolds, during my period of mourning I do not expect I need all that much help. I will not be entertaining, I will be dressed simply, and …"
She thought for a moment. "I suppose I can make use of any other servants, as necessary."
"Of course."
Elizabeth thought a minute. "Mrs. Reynolds, have you engaged a young girl named Molly Hatcher?"
Somewhat surprised by the question, the housekeeper replied, "Yes, ma'am. She is a scullery maid, but she is the lowest ranked servant in the house, so you are unlikely to encounter her unless you come to inspect the kitchen."
Elizabeth laughed. "Why would I inspect the kitchen, Mrs. Reynolds?"
"I have no idea, Mrs. Darcy. It is just what mistresses do, and I am certain you will have to occasionally consult with me on your meals."
Elizabeth had not even thought about meals, but the idea of eating alone in a big private dining room, surrounded by servants in full livery gave her the chills. At best it would be tedious beyond belief. At worst, it would be a constant source of gossip.
She asked, "Mrs. Reynolds, may I presume the staff eats well at this estate."
The housekeeper looked affronted at the very question, but said, "Of course. You will not find anyone at Pemberley that would not give the master a good reference."
Elizabeth thought that statement probably optimistic since one person out of three that she was familiar with disliked him but thought it best not to dwell on that.
"I will not be following the usual customs during my mourning, Mrs. Reynolds. I will leave it to the two of you to offer suitable explanations to the staff to keep gossip to a minimum. People will ask how I married while in mourning, and you are simply to say the wedding preceded my knowledge of the deed. You may put it about that I am not calling or taking callers because of my mourning, but I am a very private person and do not wish to expand on that. I also do not wish to dine formally while mourning, so I will take my meals in my sitting room – I presume I have one?"
Mrs. Reynolds looked affronted at the question. "Of course!"
"Let us do this, Mrs. Reynolds. Assign Molly to my own use, but do not promote her to lady's maid, as I do not want to foment rebellion in the ranks. I know Molly, and you may use that as explanation. She will bring me whatever you are serving below stairs and I will be content with it."
Mr. Jennings said, "That will seem very peculiar, Mrs. Darcy."
Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, I know. The only thing I ask of the two of you is to mitigate that as much as you can. Say that my mourning was for someone vague, but important. It is quite all right for you to tell people I did not share the information with you – in fact, that is probably for the best. People act peculiarly when in mourning, and so long as nothing any odder than that occurs, I believe we will survive it more or less intact."
Both servants looked dubious, but since she was the mistress of the estate, and her ideas did not directly contradict the master's orders, they had little choice but to go along.
Privately, Mrs. Reynolds was quite looking forward to a long association with Mrs. Darcy. She thought that once the master returned, and whatever the trouble between the two was resolved, she would quite enjoy the new mistress. She thought the 'vague but important' dead relative was almost certainly a bald-faced lie, but she had to admit that it was clever. You could explain just about any odd behavior with mourning, and so long as Mrs. Reynolds told the right gossip to the right people, she thought they just might pull it off with an intact reputation.
She naturally said none of this to the mistress. There were limits to this odd conversation.
Jennings' thoughts tended along the same direction, but he would never discuss such thoughts even with the steward, let alone anyone else. Mrs. Darcy had decided how she wished to comport herself, and he would do whatever was necessary to make sure the household responded accordingly.
Elizabeth said, "I would ask one more boon of you, Mrs. Reynolds."
"Anything you ask, Mrs. Darcy."
Elizabeth thought that asking for a fast horse and enough money to disappear might be too much, but she said, "I would like to salvage some hope of eventually being a proper mistress for this house. I will not interfere with your operation, but if you would join me for tea once a week and explain how things are done, I would appreciate it."
Mrs. Reynolds thought the request meant that things were much worse than she had thought, since the mistress of the house felt she had to ask the housekeeper to perform the very most basic duty of the job, but such it was.
"Of course, Mrs. Darcy."
Elizabeth gave a small smirk. "Also, if there are any changes that you have wanted to do for some time but did not want to ask Mr. Darcy – feel free to make them and blame me."
Jennings looked scandalized, but Mrs. Reynolds just laughed, and nodded.
Feeling like their business for the day was complete, Elizabeth said, "Shall we take a look at my suite, Mrs. Reynolds. If there are changes necessary, I imagine we should get on with it."
"Of course, Mrs. Darcy. Right this way."
Jennings said, "If you have no objections Mrs. Darcy, I will come along with a couple of footmen just in case you want some small changes for the evening, moving furniture around and the like."
"Thank you, Jennings. That would be lovely. If you could show me the library on the way, I would be entirely content."
With that, the three got up from what was probably the oddest conversation in history, all still quite uncomfortable with the situation, but all at least believing it was manageable.
