"I see. So, I should just take your word for it. Tell me, my lord, if Lady Catherine happened to drop by, should I follow her instructions as well."
Matlock grumbled. "Absolutely not!"
Elizabeth tried to smile, although it came out as more of a grimace. "You see my conundrum then, my lord. I have clear instructions, and competing people trying to assert they are incorrect."
"You should use your common sense."
Elizabeth sighed. "Lord Matlock – Lady Matlock – Let me be clear. As I have surmised, and you have verified, I am in some danger of being cast aside in some thoroughly unpleasant way. There is very little I can do to change the outcome, but what I can do, I will do. My husband, if he ever returns, may find me unhandsome, he may find me impertinent, he may find me a bluestocking, he may find me insufficiently accomplished – any or all of these he may find. What he will not find is that I have been disobedient. If he wants to put me aside, it will be on his own head, not mine. I will follow all of his instructions to the letter, and I will not allow anyone to disrupt that."
Still reeling from her assertion, and not quite able to believe a tiny insignificant mouse of a country girl was willing to stand up to him, the Earl asked, "How do you propose to learn what you need to know to be a good mistress?"
"I am certain my husband has his own ideas. I will do as he suggests."
Lady Matlock said, "I truly think you are mad, Mrs. Darcy."
Elizabeth shrugged. "I suppose if Mr. Darcy comes to the same conclusion, he may attempt to have me committed."
Matlock said, "What do you mean 'attempt'?"
"I will leave that to your imagination, my lord. I will not go quietly if it comes to that. Now, if you need to rest before you return, I suggest you apply to Mrs. Reynolds just like anybody else. I will not be about to get in your way, but I repeat – I will not entertain you."
Both noble relatives looked like they wanted to argue some more, but Elizabeth saw no real point, so she just curtsied. "Good day my lord – my lady."
Then she gave a curtsy that was exactly-precisely what was due someone of their station, turned and left the room without another word.
Noble Relations – Chapter 32
RED
Amazed that she could be even angrier at anyone than she was at her husband, Elizabeth did her best not to stomp out of the house in a rage of blinding fury. Unfortunately, her best was not actually very good, and she could well have passed for a petulant five-year-old. On the other hand, by then she knew all the hidden passageways that nobody else used, so she managed to escape the house with none the wiser, after asking a footman to discreetly pass messages to Molly and Mrs. Reynolds. None of the servants had witnessed the debacle with her noble relations in the parlor, thank goodness for small favors. If they had been present, Elizabeth had no idea what would have happened, but was quite certain that whatever it was would be bad.
As she stormed out of the house, thinking evil thoughts about the family she had somehow married into, she turned her mind to the legal tomes she had been poring over for the past month. The results were grim indeed. Within the framework of the law, she had no protection whatsoever – none. She was entirely at the mercy of her husband.
With that in mind, she knew that in the end, it would make little difference if she was strictly 'obedient' or not. Darcy could just as well claim she had not been or change his mind about the terms of their agreement at a whim, and there was not a single thing she could do about it. On the one hand, that would make her dismissal of the Matlocks, someone who her husband probably held in some esteem appear to be self‑defeating, but in the bigger game, she thought perhaps not. At the end of the day, she was entirely dependent on whether her husband was a man of his word or not. To date, aside from Mr. Wickham's words, which she was beginning to doubt, she had no evidence that Mr. Darcy was not trustworthy. His words were unpleasant and disagreeable nine times out of ten, but whatever they were, he appeared to live by them.
When he returned, he might be angry that she had not taken his aunt and uncle in and treated them like proper guests, but he would at least have to admit that she stuck by her word and his explicit written instructions. For all she knew, he might despise his aunt and uncle, and would be angry for their officious interference in his house. She had no way to know. The only thing for certain was that she had agreed to live by his rules. Forced or not, she had agreed, and at least for the moment, she felt honor bound to stick to the terms of the 'contract'. She had made an agreement with her father, and coerced or not, she had eventually agreed. That meant she was bound by two separate contracts, for lack of a better word, and to the best of her ability, she would live by them.
To try to distract her from the grim reality of her legal and marital situation, she picked out her favorite new legal word, 'loophole', and decided to put it to good use. She so missed the carefree days of walking her father's estate, blissfully unaware of just how precarious her position was. Her husband had decreed, once again in writing, that she was never to walk unaccompanied. Unfortunately for him, he was not a barrister, and relied on common sense to fill in the details. Elizabeth decided she probably did not have any. With that in mind, she went to the kennel.
Maximilian was the oldest dog in the kennel, and possibly the oldest dog she had ever met, but he loved her company, and he was always game for whatever she was. He had been a hunter for many years and was mostly living a life of quiet retirement. She let him out, and felt her anger and frustration recede through the simple expedient of hugging and petting him. He naturally slobbered all over her dress, but what did she care. She had two dresses, and plenty of laundresses who were probably bored out of their minds and worried about their positions if the mistress did not become more social.
With Max at her heels, which was obviously sufficient 'accompaniment' for anyone, she took off through the least used path in the garden and proceeded a quarter mile until she was entirely out of sight of the house. Then, feeling a small burst of freedom, she ran like the wind until she nearly repaid the favor by drooling all over the dog, then sat down on a small bench. The early May sun was shining brightly, and the smell of the fields felt like Spring slowly turning to Summer. She believed Summer would be different in Derbyshire than it was in Hertfordshire, but it seemed like it would be enjoyable.
After a quarter hour of rest, Elizabeth and Max continued up the hill until they got to an overlook where she could see Pemberley in all its pristine glory. Sometimes she wondered that she was the mistress of such an edifice, which was certainly grand enough for anyone interested in status. 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. As a visitor, Elizabeth would 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. She had to conclude that someone in her husband's ancestry had some taste and good judgment, and perhaps it passed down to her husband. Of course, it would have had to skip his mother, but such things were known to happen, so maybe all was not lost.
The house and grounds were indeed lovely beyond measure. However, as a mistress spending all her time in Limbo, waiting for the Sword of Damocles to fall, she mostly hated the place. She thought a prison should look like a prison. Oh, to be certain, she understood she was being overly dramatic, and probably foolish. Most women would kill to have such a position, and she should be grateful for what she had; but still, she hated it. She hated the uncertainty of it. She hated not knowing whether she had just made a colossal mistake with the Matlocks that she would rue for decades; or she had stood her ground and possibly earned some future respect from her husband. She thought the former to be more likely, but whether it was or not, she had little need of respect from her husband if she did not have respect for herself, and she would not be talked to like a disobedient child in her own home. She had her limits.
When Elizabeth reached the highest point of her planned walk, she once again sat down, this time on an old stump that was surprisingly comfortable, and Max curled around at her feet for a nap. Elizabeth had been told by the kennel master that dogs slept for eighteen hours a day, so this did not seem to indicate her favorite companion was in decline.
She wondered about pride and tried to force herself to think rationally about her actions. There was a chance that Lord and Lady Matlock had already left, but that seemed unlikely. They did not seem the type to give up easily, and it was certainly not too late to try to get on their good side. Long experience had taught Elizabeth that her sister Jane was always the favorite at first glance, but her own personality and intelligence had long been advantageous in the longer term. Jane had admirers, while Elizabeth had friends – or at least, she had thought she had before. Charlotte had turned out to be a disappointment, but she had no reason to doubt the current constancy of the Lucas brothers, the Golding sisters or any of the other friends she had once enjoyed in Meryton.
Elizabeth knew perfectly well that with about a tenth of the manipulation she normally employed with her mother, she could have the Matlocks eating from the palm of her hand. That would almost certainly give her enormous advantage in the society in general, and the ton in particular, so what exactly about the couple made her reluctant to do it. Was it pride? Self‑protection? Stubbornness? Lack of commitment to her marriage?
She pondered a conversation with her husband, back in the halcyon days of her unmarried youth when the idea of being married to Mr. Darcy was only slightly less ludicrous than the idea of being elected to Parliament. She had asked him about pride and vanity.
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."
"Miss Bingley," said he. "has given me more credit than can be. The wisest and the best of men–nay, the wisest and best of their actions–may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."
"Certainly, there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."
"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride–where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."
She had to think about that a moment. She had, at the time, thought it the greatest absurdity, but could he be correct? Could it be that she did not have her own pride under good regulation, and was acting in a self‑defeating manner? Was it out of control even back in Netherfield? It was certainly possible. She knew for a fact that her mother could get the things she wanted far easier if she swallowed her pride and groveled a bit for her father; which Mrs. Bennet was not averse to doing when it suited her fancy. Should Elizabeth reverse her course, and try to take advantage of her relations?
She thought about it for quite some time, and eventually decided that there had to be some sort of hierarchy for emotions. Some were obviously more noble than others. Greed and gluttony would clearly come out lower than charity or love, for a simple example. From that standpoint, she thought that respect had to beat out pride, vanity and even greed. Self-respect was as important as respect for others, and therefore, if she wanted to live a life of dignity, she had to have some self‑respect. It was simple, really – or more likely, just rationalization.
With that in mind, she eventually decided that she may not have done the most practical thing with the relatives that she could, but she could certainly hold her head up and say she had done the correct thing. If she started now, allowing the fiction that she had compromised her husband to survive, then she would be complicit in her own downfall.
After some thought, she decided that her conclusions would have to suffice, because she would rather gouge her own eyes out than apologize to Darcy's horrid relatives. She would be allowing them to win without a fight, and she just could not bring herself to do that. She would either be accepted by her husband's family as she was, without false modesty, or she would not be accepted at all. Suicidal or not, she though it the only way she would be able to look at herself in the mirror without cringing a few years hence. If that cost her some discomfort among her husband's family, so be it.
The sun was settling by the time Elizabeth returned to the house. She had built the habit over several months of not being too predictable, so it was rare for anyone but Molly or Noah to know exactly (or even approximately) where she was. Even they were sometimes too stifling for the mistress, so she might hint that she was going riding when she planned no such activity. They were of course not fooled, but they played along with the game. That day was Noah's half‑day off anyway, and Molly had been performing her actual job when the Matlocks appeared, by going to Kympton with a footman to get some supplies for Mrs. Reynolds. It seemed like overcompensation to Elizabeth, but Mrs. Reynolds insisted that some tasks were entirely incompatible with any person in trousers, and who was Elizabeth to argue with someone who had been managing the house for so many years.
When Elizabeth returned Max to the kennel, she walked by the stables, and saw that the Matlock coach was still inside. From that, she concluded that they must have begged (or more likely ordered) Mrs. Reynolds to put them up. Elizabeth wondered how long they would stay, but so long as she did not have to entertain them, she really did not care very much. She occupied such a tiny sliver of Pemberley, she thought she could coexist with them not only in the same house, but on the same floor for weeks without bumping into them.
She easily slipped into the house and up to her room, to find Molly trying to read The Romance of the Forest by Ann Radcliffe, which Elizabeth had been thoroughly surprised to find on Mr. Darcy's bookshelves. She had expected many things, but a reasonably complete collection of relatively recent gothic novels had not been one of them. The writing in the book was still somewhat beyond Molly's ability five months after she had read her first word, but Elizabeth told her to push herself and Molly was certainly game. Elizabeth reckoned the woman could read it a dozen times if that was what it took, so she was satisfied.
With a smile, she said, "Ah, Molly, how is young Adeline doing? Has she …"
Molly slapped the table. "Do not finish that sentence. I do not want any clues."
Elizabeth laughed along with her maid. Those days, Molly was practically tied to her chair, and her childlike wonder at the glories to be found in the written word was a joy to behold. She was older and wiser than a six-year-old, so she delighted in different kinds of stories, but the entire experience was probably the best thing about being at Pemberley so far.
Instead of spoiling Molly's book, she decided to gather some intelligence.
"The thought would never occur to me, Molly. How are things below stairs?"
Molly frowned, and hesitated.
Elizabeth said, "The unvarnished truth, if you please. I know it goes against the grain, but my conversation with the Matlocks did not go well. I would like to know what is being done and said."
Molly grumbled. "So, it is true then? You do not intend to 'entertain' them?"
"No, I do not. My husband's instructions on that score were clear enough."
Molly looked at her. She was a bit cheeky for a servant, more than a bit to tell the truth, but that was exactly as her mistress wanted, so she said, "Are you certain that is the right way to handle the situation?"
"Not in the least, but if I do not put my foot down right here and right now, I will never be respected by this family. Disrespect is a poison, that once allowed to get a foothold is very difficult to contain. It is probably not the best thing for me to do from a practical standpoint, but it is the only course of action I can bring myself to do."
Molly sighed, not entirely certain that Elizabeth was acting wisely, but then she reflected that the gentry may as well be a different and exotic species for all she could understand their motivations, so she would keep her advice to herself.
"The Matlocks are not making any friends below stairs, but I doubt they care any more about that than the fact they are not making friends in the stables. They do not notice us like you do."
Elizabeth smiled, thinking things were mostly as she expected.
"I am told there has not been a real formal dinner in this house in almost a year. Mrs. Reynolds and the cook obviously know what to do, but Lady Matlock seems to feel like she can order the house about to her requirements."
"How is that going?"
Molly grinned. "I am told Mrs. Reynolds told Lady Matlock that the house had a mistress, and one was sufficient."
Elizabeth gasped, and Molly continued, "Lady Matlock did not seem impressed, but she got the message and retreated."
Elizabeth chuckled. "I like Mrs. Reynolds better and better every day."
"Will you join them for dinner?"
Elizabeth thought about it for a while, and finally asked, "What do you think?"
Molly thought for a bit, not really believing she had any cleverer thoughts than Mrs. Darcy, but willing to give it a try. "I cannot say. All I know is that if I let one of my brothers pick on me without a response, they all join in and keep going until one of them ends up with a black eye, or something truly unpleasant in his dinner or his laundry."
Elizabeth laughed. "Perhaps you can tell me about these unpleasant foods." with a laugh, adding, "The knowledge might come in handy when my husband returns."
She thought about it right up until the time dinner was to begin and decided that she would stick to her original decision. She spent a quiet evening reading with Molly, ate the fancier meal that the servants prepared for the Matlocks in her sitting room but without all the ceremony, and otherwise spent the entire evening second guessing the day's actions.
She eventually fell asleep, well past midnight, still uncertain of the day's actions, but unable to bring herself to do any better. Her last thought before succumbing to sleep was a bit of a plea for wisdom to appear with the light of the new day.
