RED

Looking out the window of the carriage as he drove up to his ancestral home, Darcy was not the least bit surprised to see his butler and housekeeper standing on the top steps to welcome him, surrounded by a few more footmen and maids. He was only carrying a small valise, so he did not need so much help, but it was heartening to see something approaching normalcy.

Unfortunately, he did not see was his wife. He had written three letters to her that should have been there weeks earlier, as well as letters to his butler and steward. He supposed her absence indicated her lack of appreciation for the content of his letters. He assumed that meant he had more work to do than expected, but that was hardly surprising. To tell the truth, he expected a chilled reception, but not quite that chilled.

"Welcome home, sir!" came from Jennings, who sounded far graver than butlers usually allowed themselves to sound. Mrs. Reynolds and the rest of the staff repeated the greetings, and they all exchanged the usual courtesies.

Less than two minutes into the greetings, his steward, Mr. Knight, appeared on horseback, no doubt notified when he crested the top of the hill. He greeted Knight warmly, along with the rest of the staff who were out to see the master, and then suggested he could use some refreshment after the long journey.

Once he arrived in the yellow parlor and Jennings closed the door, he turned anxiously to his housekeeper, butler and steward, and asked pensively, "Where is Mrs. Darcy?"

The three looked at each other fretfully, and Jennings finally answered, "We were hoping you could tell us, sir."

Darcy startled, and snapped, "What do you mean?"

"She left a month ago, sir. She implied she was traveling to meet with you, but she was not explicit about how or where."

Darcy felt like all the air was sucked out of the room, and his legs failed him. He collapsed back into a chair, gasping for breath, and ran his hands through his hair, which was considerably more disheveled than he would have allowed it to be before his illness, while trying to keep tears from coming to his eyes. It slowly dawned on him that either his letters had not arrived, they had not softened her anger, or perhaps they had inflamed them.

Darcy blew out a breath, and sighed. "It would seem I have thoroughly stuffed it up and make no mistake about that. I have no idea where she is, nor do I blame her for flying the coop. This is a disaster – all of my own making."

Jennings said, "She left a note, sir," and then handed him a note he had been carrying inside his jacket.


23 June 1812, Lambton

Mr. Jennings & Mrs. Reynolds

The time has come to meet with my husband. You need not worry, as I have all in hand, and know what I am doing. Molly and Noah are escorting me for my safety, and to maintain propriety. We are leaving on the 11:37 coach from Lambton and expect to be gone several months. I apologize that I could not notify you sooner.

It has been a great pleasure getting to know both of you, and I am indebted to the entire, excellent staff of Pemberley for offering me the warmest welcome possible. I suggest you carry on as before until Mr. Darcy returns.

Elizabeth Darcy


Darcy stared at the note, read it five times. "Is that all?"

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Reynolds replied, "we did not know what to make of it. We have several letters addressed to her that arrived after she left, all them from you, I believe, but nothing else."

Darcy sighed, pointed at the other chairs. "The time of the coach seems oddly – specific."

"We assumed she just read it from a clock before leaving, sir, but it is curious," Knight ventured.

Darcy read the note a few more times, and then said, "It seems we will need to have a frank discussion. Please have a seat."

The three companions sat down, all quite uncomfortable with the tableau. Before they could get started, the door opened and a maid came in with refreshments, which were greatly appreciated since Darcy, for one, was famished. He suggested everyone else join him.

Once everyone had tea and a collection of the sandwiches and biscuits, he said, "What happened while I was gone? I suspect we will have to go over it several times from every angle to get to the truth. Perhaps you could start, Mrs. Reynolds, but first, may I set the tone with a preamble?"

"Of course, sir."

"You will all be reluctant to say anything too horrible, but I will encourage you to full candor. The smallest detail might make the difference, so let me set the stage, so to speak. I treated my honorable wife abominably, and I deserve whatever I get. While it is true that her mother compromised me and forced the marriage, I have come to believe that my wife was as much a victim as I was, and yet, I treated her as a conspirator. I foolishly decided to do what seemed like prudence to me at the time but is now shown to be petty revenge on someone who had done me no wrong. I also suspect that she did not like me very much, if at all, at the time. I also left that impression with all of you, and several members of my family, which could not have helped."

All four of his companions just sat staring at him in stunned disbelief, so he continued, "Coming close to death, and having a lot of time on your hands during recovery, gives considerable opportunity for reflection, and I can assure you that I have done my share and more. I first became convinced that I had been unfair to the woman I said my vows to; then I became convinced I had been overly harsh; and then I gradually became convinced I had acted with the utmost cruelty, start to finish."

Mrs. Reynolds was the first to speak. "Yes sir, you did."

"Thank you for having the bravery to say it, Mrs. Reynolds. I imagine it goes against the grain."

"It does, but it needed to be spoken plainly. Having said that, I believe we can all accept it, and try to work out what needs to be done, rather than wallowing in it. I believe we all could have done better by Mrs. Darcy."

Jennings said, "We followed your lead and her lead, when we should have been guiding her."

Knight said, "I fear that I did worse. I only spoke to her a couple of times, but I believe it was with overt hostility, quite unbecoming of my position, sir. I calculated her pin money to the penny, and she chastised me for my pettiness, then told me she wished to never speak to me again."

The man looked like he expected to be sacked, and to be honest, if it had not been entirely his own fault, Darcy probably would have considered that a dismissal offense. Instead, he said, "While I could wish you had handled that more subtly, I cannot find real fault, Knight. You all followed the lead of the master and the mistress of the estate. I am the primary culprit here, so let us focus on what we can do. Please tell me how her life went at Pemberley."

All the men looked at Mrs. Reynolds, judging that she probably had the most detailed story to tell.

She sighed. "She started out in a very clever way, sir, though you could tell that she was angry enough that I thought it wise to keep the axe locked up in the barn."

Everyone chuckled slightly, not as an indication that the jest was funny, but mostly to release a bit of tension.

"She arrived on the 26th of December, wearing black. She had a day dress that she had dyed black at an inn. We had a rather frank discussion about the terms you laid down on her, and she implied, but never admitted outright, that the mourning was a sham, designed to reduce the humiliation of her position."

Darcy leaned his head forward and held it, with his elbows on his knees. He was not even an hour into his wife's term as mistress of the estate, and things were already sounding bleaker than bleak.

"Did she say who she was mourning?"

"No, sir. She said to spread it about that her wedding preceded her knowledge of the affair, so there was nothing untoward about her nuptials, and that she was a very private person anyway. She would not make calls or receive calls while in deep mourning."

Darcy laughed at that. "Private person indeed – I can tell you that she is a very social person, but the disguise is pure genius. I cannot think of a better way she could have proceeded."

"I suspected as much, sir, but followed her instruction."

"Where did she get mourning clothes, Lambton?"

Mrs. Reynolds looked like she could not decide whether to be embarrassed or angry, so she just said, "No, sir. She asked a laundress to dye a second dress and," then she paused in slight embarrassment, and continued, "that was all she wore for the entire six months – two old, dyed day dresses."

Darcy ground his teeth in frustration, thinking every revelation just made things worse. It was all his own fault, but he had somehow hoped for a softer landing from his great fall. He suspected that before all was said and done, he would have to get the axe Mrs. Reynolds mentioned and take it to his pride, because said emotion may very well have cost him his chance for happiness.

Mrs. Reynolds continued, somewhat nervously. "She had to pay for her own clothing, sir, with, forgive me for saying it, a pittance of an allowance. What would the neighborhood have said if Mrs. Darcy bought dresses more fitting for a maid or the daughter of a middling squire than the mistress of Pemberley?"

Darcy sighed. "Yes, I can see that, Mrs. Reynolds. Were they at least reasonable dresses?"

"Yes, sir, they were at least that. She liked to traipse around the woods for hours at a time with her maid, Molly – the one that she had known previously, and who left with her. They appear to have done all the repairs on her clothing themselves, as they never asked the other maids to do anything except the laundry. Her petticoats and stockings were frequently muddy, but other than that, the load on the staff was embarrassingly minimal."

Darcy thought he could detect the beginnings of a stubborn streak in his wife, or to be frank, the unequivocal evidence of a stubborn streak – which actually made him appreciate her more. She had handled the awkward situation better than he had. Of course, besting his handling of the situation was not something to boast of.

"What happened then?"

Jennings continued the story. "She seemed brittle and angry for a time, sir. Bates found her on New Year's Day, having imbibed a bit too much of the brandy in the library, but other than that, she seemed to learn to cope. She asked Mrs. Reynolds and I to teach her about the estate, so we did our best. She learned the names of all the staff, but never issued any orders."

"How did she do with the instruction?" Darcy asked in genuine curiosity

"I do not know about Mrs. Reynolds, but I do not believe I taught her a single thing."

Reynolds concurred, but Darcy looked confused, so Jennings clarified. "I do not mean she was incapable of learning. It is just that I did not find anything she did not already know. She is perfectly capable of acting as mistress now and was the day she appeared."

"I showed her the household books and learned she already knew everything I could teach her. I learned that in a single day. All the other duties of a mistress, she at least knew, even though she did not exercise any of her authority. Her questions about the tenants were detailed and insightful, and she did make some suggestions for things I might think of doing."

Darcy restlessly got up from the chair, went over to a side table, and poured himself a brandy, thinking that Mrs. Darcy's New Year's idea was sounding more appealing by the minute.

"Then what?"

"You had not assigned her a lady's maid, so she purloined the lowest ranking servant in the house, one Molly Hatcher, because she actually already knew her from somewhere, which was odd. Molly was from Lambton, born and bred, but Mrs. Darcy asked for her by name the very first day."

"Interesting."

"It seemed a small thing to allow her Molly's exclusive use, and since she abandoned the idea of formal dining, I did not really need another scullery maid. I only hired her because you were getting married."

Darcy drank his brandy down in one gulp, and poured another, chuckling over the fact that he had not quite escaped France yet.

"That was well-done, Mrs. Reynolds. I am glad you did it. What did the two of them get up to?"

"They explored just about every inch of the park that you can reach on foot. They walked into Lambton and back several times a week. She spent a great deal of time in the bookstore. Mr. Bartlet did not mind, and the last month or so, she seemed to meet several of the local gentlemen there."

Darcy grunted, not at all certain he liked that idea, but since he had known Mr. Bartlet since he had been breeched and spent considerable time in the shop himself, he knew he need not worry about anything untoward. Her reputation might be suspect over the meetings, but it was sounding like the Darcy reputation was in tatters anyway, and they would survive it, just as Darcys had survived scandals before, for 600 years.

"That is good," he said, adding, "Bartlet would not let anything bad happen, and I suppose she was starved for companionship."

"I suppose so, but if you want to know what she was thinking, he is probably your best bet."

Darcy nodded. "Back to the beginning. She got her maid, and –"

"Believe it or not, she was teaching the maid to read. She was just a young girl from Lambton, certainly not a lady's maid, but I believe Mrs. Darcy wanted to ensure she had an ally when you came back. She did not want you to have any excuse to force another maid on her – or at least, that was my assumption."

Darcy hung his head, not able to contradict the idea.

"She also offered to teach other servants, and a few, including the Noah that went away with her joined in. I believe he had an interest in Molly, but that is purely speculation," Mrs. Reynolds added.

"You say she walked into Lambton? That is five miles, a good hour and a half in good weather, and more in winter – each way. You are saying she did that regularly?"

"Yes, sir. She did not call for the carriage even once, but in mid‑March, she started taking lessons from Longman, and rode for several hours each day. I surmised that became the best part of her day. She also managed to get pianoforte lessons without paying overly much for them. After she started riding, she rode to Lambton more often than not, with Longman as escort."

Darcy sighed. "I left instructions to not use the coach more than once a week. I suppose she took that very literally."

Darcy looked over and saw Mrs. Reynolds wringing her hands. "Out with it, Alice. You have known me since I was four years old. If you have something to say, please say it. We are all friends here."

Saying the words, in plain English like that, Darcy realized that there was some truth in them that he had never quite recognized before. His parents had grilled into him that there needed to be a sort of barrier between the servants and the gentry, and he had taken them at their word most of his life. He, of course, made sure everyone in his employ was well paid, well taken care of, pensioned well at the end of their tenure, looked after in sickness and health, and everything else that made an efficient estate – but he had always held himself aloof. He wondered if he was making a mistake making the barrier permeable, but at that moment, he could care less. He just wanted to find his wife, and he would camp out in the servant's attics if he thought it would help.

Mrs. Reynolds, somewhat startled that the master had used her given name for the first time in some years, said, "Sir, she made a clean copy of your instructions for her own records. She said something at the end of the ill‑fated visit from the Matlocks."

Darcy's head snapped up. "Visit from the Matlocks?"

"Yes, sir. They visited in mid-May. They did not make a very good impression on Mrs. Darcy, nor did she make a good impression on them – although."

Her pausing and tiptoeing around the truth was frustrating Darcy, but he knew it was his fault, so he gently just looked at her with permission to speak freely.

"It seemed to me like they had made up their mind before they walked into the door. They had her convicted, sentenced and hanged, before she ever came to trial. She never had a chance, sir."

Darcy, glanced at the brandy sitting on the table, and exerted all the iron-willed discipline he had to leave it sitting there, adding, "What happened."

"Your wife spoke to them for perhaps a quarter‑hour and refused to offer them hospitality."

Darcy gasped, and even started out of his chair, but it only lasted a second before he slumped down. "I did leave explicit instructions that she was not to entertain."

"Yes, sir. She told them if they needed a room to beg me for it, and then –"

"Go on."

"And then she just disappeared until they left. They stayed three or four days, I assume thinking they would break her down eventually, but in the end, she did not speak to them again until they were on the porch, ready to load their coach. I believe Bates showed her the hidden staircases, so she frequently came and went with nobody being the wiser. She could have ignored them quite easily."

Darcy just shook his head, feeling an incipient headache coming on. "Bates would do that, and I would not blame him. Have you any idea what she did in the interim?"

Quite to his shock, Knight who had been keeping quiet, probably worried about his job, laughed.

Darcy looked at him, and the steward chuckled. "Longman taught her to ride Omega."

"Omega!" Darcy exclaimed. He remembered the horse, which was at least three hands too large for his wife, and disagreeable to boot, though he still brought in good stud fees, because he was the most beautiful animal he owned, then continued in shock. "Omega is far too big for her."

Knight chuckled. "On that score, sir, you are entirely mistaken! I suspect Longman put her up to it, but she took to that horse like a duck to water. When the Matlocks left, she let them get to that wide stretch before Lambton, and she rode by them running like the wind. I heard about it from a drover who witnessed it. He said she looked like a Valkyrie."

Darcy vacillated between feeling scandalized and feeling proud of his wife, but the scandal portion was soon snuffed out by a feeling of hope. He was absolutely, certainly, definitely in her brown books, and unlikely to emerge soon, but to have a wife who would pull that kind of stunt, just because she could. That would be something!

Mrs. Reynolds said, "You know I am not in the habit of overhearing, sir, but I believe the mistress set herself up to say something that nobody but your aunt, uncle, and myself could hear."

"What did she say?"

Mrs. Reynolds thought carefully. "It was quite stark. I can repeat it close to word for word, I believe. She said, '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 his instructions to the letter, and I will not allow anyone to disrupt that.'"

The words felt like a hammer blow, and he really wondered if that had been her purpose. If her aim had been to publicly shame him among his family, and trigger nearly crippling feelings of shame and guilt. Well then, she had succeeded admirably.

He leaned back in the chair and started rubbing his temples.

Mrs. Reynolds asked, "Should I get you some laudanum, sir."

"No thank you, Mrs. Reynolds, but I do believe some willow bark tea might go well. I will save the laudanum for an emergency."

Mrs. Reynolds looked skeptical about the master's desire to extend his pain, but she did go to the doorway and make his request, then returned to her seat.

Darcy said, "I suppose I should have the rest. I assume it gets worse, or at least not‑better?"

Jennings said, "She seemed to be all right after the Matlocks left for some weeks, and then she had another visitor. Miss Caroline Bingley."

"I assume that went badly."

Reynolds said, "You assume incorrectly then, sir. She got along famously with Miss Bingley. They talked for several hours in the parlor, then she ordered a formal dinner."

Jennings asked, "I thought it was funny, sir. She asked for the dinner, 'if we still remembered how'."

Darcy had to chuckle along with his staff. That sounded just like her, and he would dig deeper into that dinner, but something told him there were other, more important things.

"And?"

"They did not dress for dinner. The mistress wore, I think the dress from the first day, and Miss Bingley wore what she arrived in. The lady left the next morning, and we have not heard from her since."

Darcy spent a good couple of minutes trying to wrap his mind around the idea of a pleasant conversation between Mrs. Darcy and Miss Bingley, but he found himself quite incapable of it.

He finally said, "That was unexpected. Did Mrs. Darcy maintain her happiness after that?"

Everyone looked at each other, and Jennings finally picked up the thread.

"She did until …"

Frustrated, Darcy snapped, "… until – until what?"

"Until Lady Catherine's visit, sir."

Darcy gasped. "Lady Catherine was here? She was HERE?"

His shouts would have embarrassed himself to no end at any other time, but to have his very worst relative poking her nose in his business sounded like the worst of all possible developments.

Jennings continued, "Yes, sir. Like your other aunt and uncle, Lady Catherine came to draw blood, but –"

He ground to a stop, not quite willing to say the rest, so Knight took pity on him, reckoning that his days might well be numbered anyway.

"Perhaps your aunt came to draw blood, Mr. Darcy, but, in the end, your wife did."

"What do you mean," Darcy asked in complete confusion.

Jennings picked up the thread. "I stayed outside the door, being not-exactly-unfamiliar with your aunt –"

Darcy chuckled grimly, more in consternation than humor.

"The conversation was indistinct, but the tone of it was not auspicious. I sent every footman and maid far away – just in time as it turned out. Your aunt's voice started raising to a full-on screech, and Mrs. Darcy's voice escalated to match. By the time the encounter was over they were shouting at each other. Then Mrs. Darcy dragged her ladyship out bodily, dragged her publicly down the front steps, pushed her into the coach and told her not to come back before you did sir."

Darcy groaned, and finally said, "Have you any idea what was said?"

"I know exactly what was said, but I will not repeat it within 100 yards of a woman as admirable as Mrs. Reynolds."

Mrs. Reynolds reached over and slapped him with some unexpected familiarity, but she did not correct him, simply saying, "I heard them myself, sir. You are better off not knowing."

"How bad?"

"Imagine the worst thing your aunt has ever said and double it."

Darcy groaned. "Good Lord, between myself and my relatives, she must have felt trapped."

Knight spoke up. "She did, sir. I spoke to her not long after that and offered her my sincerest apology, as I had come to my senses by then."

"What did she do?"

Knight looked abashed, then said, "She stared at me for a moment, and then finally said, 'I accept your apology, Mr. Knight', and then turned and walked away.

Darcy could see that Knight had expected more from the mistress, but whether the steward expected a tongue-lashing, or a better apology was anybody's guess. He was a good steward, but between the two of them, Darcy thought they did not have the sense of a donkey when it came to dealing with women.

Knight continued, "She spent the last several weeks at the bookshop. She rode Omega out early every morning and came back late at night. Then, she was just – gone, like a puff of smoke."

Darcy leaned forward in his chair and regretted that his pride would not let him wallow in his sorrow and weep. It might have been a fitting end to the discussion.

Instead, he rubbed his temples. "Have you looked for any clues in her room?"

"No sir. When we got the note, I did not want to violate her privacy, and had no idea what to do if we did learn something. We discussed it and decided to just lock the door and wait for you to return."

Darcy thought the action was probably as good as any other, so he said, "Well then, I suppose we should go take a look."