A/N: The Red thread looks likely to be longer than Green (not surprisingly), so I am left with a choice of posting more chapters in Red than Green or making very long chapters. Today, you get 2 chapters of Red and then I'll switch back to Green.
Wade
Soothsayer. Caesar!
Caesar. Ha! who calls?
Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!
Caesar. Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.
Soothsayer. Beware the ides of March.
Caesar. What man is that?
Brutus. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
Caesar. Set him before me; let me see his face.
Cassius. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.
Caesar. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.
Soothsayer. Beware the ides of March.
Caesar. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
Julias Caesar – Act 1 Scene 2
RED
After reading the text on marriage law, Elizabeth spent several days ruminating on what she had learned. Marriage was almost always 'til death us do part', but the important word there was 'almost'. It turned out that there were several difficult and expensive ways for a man to get out of a marriage, and several far easier and less expensive ways for a man to act as if he were not married, without actually breaking the legal bond. All would obviously be considered dishonorable by sensible people, but all were well within Pemberley and the Darcy family's capabilities.
To date, nothing she knew about her husband and his family indicated eternal optimism was justified. To be fair, she had no proof that her husband was dishonorable, and the fact that he had offered for her indicated he had some concern for his reputation and legacy; but his behavior had thus far not been auspicious.
She had even learned that passing the estate to his first‑born male child was not cast in stone as she had always assumed. There was apparently no entail on Pemberley, so Darcy could pass it to whomever he pleased. If he wanted to pass it to a nephew, for example his sister's eldest, or to a natural child, or a cousin, then the law would not blink an eye. Society might, but the law would not. He even had one cousin that he was reported to be closer to than a brother, so the idea of making him or his son the heir was not out of the question. There was no indication that he planned to dishonor his vows, but frightfully little evidence he planned to honor them either.
Of course, in those matters, the wife, had none of those options. She was, legally, the property of her husband, and had no say whatsoever. She would not even be allowed to defend herself should he take a case to the Ecclesiastical Courts for an annulment, to take one extreme example. Her husband had complete control over her future, whether for good or ill. It turned out that 'in good times and bad' was an obligation of honor for the husband, but a legal requirement for the wife. She ended up feeling sick at the end of the tome.
Elizabeth had also spoken with several people, including Mr. Bartlet on one of her increasingly frequent walks to Lambton, about exactly how the ton operated. What she learned made her question why any sane person would want to join such a disreputable group. Gambling, infidelity and dishonesty were rampant, starting with the Prince Regent and down to the lowest member of the so‑called 'upper ten thousand'. Playing with reputations was just another sport to them, and they would happily make her entire life miserable just to gain some small social advantage or to win a wager at White's. A scandal would inconvenience Mr. Darcy, but it would absolutely ruin her – especially if she did not have the iron-clad support of her husband's family.
All this left Elizabeth alternating between hopelessness, depression and burning anger on an almost hourly basis. She wondered exactly how she could best use this interval, but could not really come to a decision, so she just let a fair number of days slip by with no resolution, vacillating between industry and indolence, as February gradually turned to March, and winter gradually turned to spring.
Elizabeth could not quite resist reading a play on the fifteenth of March, and she gathered a bit of an audience, more by accident than design. It all began by reading aloud with Molly, and then, without any real plan, Noah had joined. His reading voice was slow but adequate, and his need to get up and vastly overact the scene was amusing; but otherwise, Elizabeth thought it was quite the performance. He frequently left her with unladylike bouts of laughter, although he was as likely to do so with a tragedy as a comedy.
On that sunny day, heralding the Ides of March, she left the library doors open by accident. When other maids and footmen stopped by to listen for a few minutes, she invited them in and bade them rest and enjoy the performance for a few minutes. She had no idea if she would have a reckoning with Mrs. Reynolds over it, but she could not possibly imagine a half‑hour of leisure could cause the house to fall down around their ears. In fact, she was not even certain the house falling down around her ears would be a bad thing, or at least, in her more facetious moods she thought that.
Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night seething, thinking, 'One letter! Would it kill the bloody man to write one blasted letter?'. Apparently, her husband either had been shipped off somewhere without mail, (an absurd notion if there ever was one), or maybe he was lying abed dying in some sickroom somewhere, (still without access to mail). It was all so ludicrous. If he was a soldier, or going off to France to negotiate with Napoleon, then she might have understood it – but a gentleman? The most dangerous thing gentlemen ever did was ride in fox hunts, and dance with unsuitable country girls.
She had been meeting with Mrs. Reynolds weekly from the beginning, and she had finally taken a tour of most of the house (except for the hidden stairs, which the housekeeper failed to mention) at the beginning or March, so she had a reasonably good idea of how things were being done. If two thirds of the servants did absolutely nothing for a fortnight, nobody would ever notice, and a month would not cause any undue hardship.
She had just stood up to ask some of the others if they might like to participate, when the butler, Jennings entered the room. He looked around at the assembled footmen, and Elizabeth was astonished to see that he could say, 'have you no duties to perform' with as much effect as her mother yelling, 'Hill! Hill!' at the top of her lungs. Her audience vanished as if they had never been there, leaving Elizabeth alone with the butler, since Molly had left with everyone else.
Elizabeth wondered what exactly what would happen if she decided to have it out with the taciturn butler. She was the mistress, and by all rights should be able to sack him, or at the very least, influence his behavior – but that was all theoretical. She suspected that if it came down to a dispute between her and the butler that he would just ignore her, or he might enlist Mr. Knight in the argument, and it was clear where that would end.
Right at that moment, Elizabeth felt both more despondent and angrier than she had since her husband abandoned her on her wedding afternoon; even though nothing had happened except an interruption to her little play which could be easily resumed at a moment's notice. She did not, however, feel like she wanted to have it out with the butler just yet.
Very much to her surprise, he said, "I did not mean to disrupt your entertainment, madam. I am afraid none of the lower servants can imagine that I would approve of this activity."
Astonished, Elizabeth asked, "Do you disapprove, Jennings?"
"It is not my place to approve or disapprove, madam. However odd the master's instructions might be; you are the mistress of this house. Having said that, I do not personally disapprove of such activities – in moderation. I think they are even good for the morale of the staff."
Elizabeth was as surprised by the declaration as she had ever been in the house. "Does this odd situation make you …" and she struggled for the right word for some time, before settling on. "… uncomfortable?"
"I do prefer things to be orderly and unambiguous, madam. It is, of course, not your fault that things are not running in their usual manner, but this is far from the strangest situation I have ever encountered. All is well."
"Do you worry about what happens when the master returns?" she asked out of genuine curiosity. She was rarely curious about her husband, feeling like she knew all about him she was ever likely to, but in that moment, she was curious about Jennings.
Jennings paused long enough to indicate that he found the question uncomfortable, but Elizabeth had no real pity for the man, since nearly every day of the past quarter had been uncomfortable for her in one way or another.
He finally said, "I do not worry, madam. The master is a fair man …" then he paused a moment. "… as are you, madam. It is not my place to say –"
Then he just stopped, apparently running out of courage, so Elizabeth said, "Speak your mind Jennings. I will not censure you, now or later."
Nodding slightly, he said, "I will not comment except to say that you appear to have been placed in a very awkward situation, and you have handled it well. I particularly appreciate the façade of mourning. You wear it well, but it is obvious to me it is a fabrication. It is not, however, obvious to everyone else, and it makes a good excuse for your lack of social interaction with the neighborhood."
Elizabeth laughed openly. "Why, Mr. Jennings, I can see how you obtained and maintain your position. That was exactly the right combination of flattery and impertinence to make me like you."
Looking inscrutable, he bowed regally. "I aim to please, madam."
Elizabeth laughed. "May I ask you something, Mr. Jennings?"
"Of course, ma'am."
"You have no doubt noticed that I have not taken the reins of the household as a mistress ordinarily would."
"I do not know how you could, given your restrictions, ma'am."
Elizabeth sighed. "While I cannot do anything, there is no prohibition on my learning, is there – aside from my legendary indolence?"
"No, ma'am."
Elizabeth thought for a moment, while the butler waited patiently, a skill she imagined had been obtained over decades of effort.
After quite some time, Elizabeth finally said, "I have no idea what will happen when Mr. Darcy returns, but within the restrictions he has placed on me, do you suppose you could teach me what I would need to know if I did wish to be a proper mistress?"
He answered immediately. "It would be my pleasure, ma'am – and I have no doubt that Mrs. Reynolds would be happy to do her part."
Happy to have something to do, waste of time or not, she said, "Could you ask Mrs. Reynolds to join us in the library so we may get started?"
"Shall we say in an hour, madam?"
"That would be lovely, Mr. Jennings."
The rest of March and April went by quickly as the weather continued to improve. Elizabeth now had things to teach her students, which had expanded beyond Noah and Molly to include two more maids, and two footmen, with the butler and housekeeper's permission; and things of her own to learn.
The first order of business was to learn to ride better. She had the basics of course, but with only three horses in Longbourn, and Jane liking riding much more than she did, Elizabeth had never spent much time at it. Jennings assured her that riding was an essential skill for a mistress, especially in the rugged landscape they occupied, and it was something Mr. Darcy had specifically spelled out as something she could do as much as she liked. This turned out to be the most pleasurable part of her week, because after she had been instructed for a fortnight, she could wander about the estate at her leisure, so long as she was accompanied by a groom.
She could not take Molly or any of the footmen, but she did find an ancient groom who thought Jennings was a newcomer, who seemed to enjoy her company. Mr. Longman was happy to explain anything and everything she wanted to know about the estate, so long as it was out of doors. He freely admitted that after thirty years in the employ of the Darcys, he could not find his way to a room any farther inside the house than the kitchen on a bet, although Mrs. Darcy thought he was most likely teasing her.
She also spent considerable time with Mr. Bartlet, since he was the only person in the county that she knew that she could really discuss literature with. Using his assistance, she even found a young pianoforte master who thought that being able to boast of instructing Mrs. Darcy would be good enough for his business that he offered her deep discounts for her lessons, so long as he was allowed to teach her on the new pianoforte that Mr. Darcy had apparently purchased for his sister. Elizabeth thought it a shame that said sister had never even seen it, let along played it, but since none of that was her fault, she did not worry about it. She did ask Mrs. Reynolds about the sister, and found out she was about Kitty's age, and was staying with her relatives until her brother returned.
The rest of her instruction turned out to be both anti-climactic and frustrating at the same time.
On the anti-climactic front, she found that household accounts were household accounts were household accounts. Except for the amounts of the transactions, Mrs. Reynolds recordkeeping was indistinguishable from what she had learned at Longbourn, which was done the same way it had been done for at least five generations. She ruefully reflected that she did not have a dowry because her mother routinely overspent her allowance, but Mrs. Bennet did not do so accidentally. In truth, Mrs. Bennet had a full grasp on the amounts, and she overspent because she could.
Elizabeth found that the mistress would normally visit tenants, but, once again, a tenant visit was a tenant visit. She and Jane had been visiting Longbourn's tenants since Jane came out at fifteen, so Elizabeth had already been visiting tenants for more than six years. She already knew what was expected of the estate when a woman was with child, someone died, a roof leaked, a barn burned, a child was born, or any of the other things that happened in life. Pemberley was noticeably more generous than Longbourn, but otherwise, all was about the same. There was not a lot Mrs. Reynolds could tell her except the specifics of who was who.
There was no way Elizabeth would be able to remember all of that without meeting the tenants in person, so, other than learning about the general layout of the farms and other holdings, there was not very much new. Derbyshire was colder than Hertfordshire, and they had a lot more sheep than she was accustomed to, but as far as the mistress was concerned, none of that mattered very much. A Derbyshire sheep was very little different from a Hertfordshire sheep, after all; and much the same could be said for cows and pigs.
Under Mrs. Reynolds' watchful eye, Elizabeth learned the specifics of the house and saw more than one room that the former Mrs. Darcy had left decorated in a manner that practically gave her hives. Other than that, she knew just about all Mrs. Reynolds could teach her by Mayday.
Her lessons about what a mistress should do in such a large house, given by Mr. Jennings, turned out to be just about as easy as the others. Like any mistress, she had to understand the dynamics of the surrounding families, but unfortunately, Jennings was not able, or more likely not willing, to tell her all that much about them. The estate was vast, but still, geography dictated that their social interactions were mostly limited to the estates close to Pemberley, and in the end, the families numbered only about thirty, which was slightly more than Elizabeth had known in Hertfordshire. She learned the basics about the families, but without meeting and evaluating each family, she knew very little more than which ones to be wary of. Since she had already thought to be wary of everyone, that did not change her outcome appreciably.
All of that was the anti-climactic part, and she was happy to have learned it all with so little effort. She had a very slight and short-lived bit of pride when she learned that her mother was not entirely silly, but that feeling only lasted until she remembered the six weeks of the Bingley party's visit to Netherfield, and especially how it ended. No feelings of pride managed to survive those thoughts.
Surprisingly enough, the real lessons about the neighborhood came from Mr. Bartlet, and those were the frustrating parts. Mr. Bartlet had no qualms at all about telling her about all the families in detail. That was useful, but again, hard to remember without connecting any faces to names.
What he did teach her that was frustrating though, was the one requirement for the mistress of a grand estate that she could not fudge. The mistress was supposed to bring money and connections, to increase the family's consequence. She had neither. A mistress should know how to entertain, which was not any more complicated than calling on tenants, but she had to know who to invite and how to deal with them. A true mistress came from a long line of similar mistresses. Every interaction with someone would be a shadow of a similar interaction that had been made generations ago. Every person she met would be evaluating her for dress, comportment, wealth and connections – and finding her wanting. There was just no way she would ever be able to boast of the type of lineage that was the only coin of the realm in the ton. She would, at best, be considered a young hoyden who had done well in snagging the Master of Pemberley, but otherwise of no importance. Worse yet, Mr. Bartlet said that all the ladies who had been passed over or their parents, could have a vindictive streak. He assumed there were already rumors flying in town and in the local drawing rooms about her, and it would not take much to fan those embers into flames.
Elizabeth dearly wished she had understood that before her marriage. There was not much that she could have done different to avoid her fate, but she might have at least understood her husband's reluctance better.
Over time, Elizabeth became quite close to Mr. Bartlet, a widower of twenty years, and between them, she learned an enormous amount. Once she learned to ride well, she made her way into Lambton nearly every other day, and she found it to be more like home than Pemberley ever would be. Though she was still in 'full mourning', she thought visiting the shops not to be a terrible problem, and she even thought up some ways she might be able to do some business with the man.
