PART TWO
August 1812
"Mrs Reynolds! Mrs Reynolds, make haste, the Master's home!"
The shriek from without so disconcerted the occupant of Pemberley's cosiest corner that, in rising to respond, she dropped the new stitch she had been applying to a thick winter shawl, destined to make a Christmas offering for Miss Georgiana. "What ever is this nonsense you screech, Betsy Murray?" she scolded, tossing aside the spoiled work for later amendment. As she opened her door in time to prevent the eager scullerymaid from assaulting it, with both fists by her stance, the cry was repeated.
"Make haste, Mrs Reynolds, for the Master's home, aye, and Miss Georgie with him! Old Roberts sent me to fetch you directly, their coach is even now before the doors!"
"Miss Georgiana, if you please." The reprimand, automatic and unheeded, fell from her lips as she straightened her lace cap, setting herself to follow the insolent chit at the most determined pace her dignified station would allow. That Sarah Jessup, the quietest upstairs maid we ever had, should have produced such a hoyden! she mused. The Lord, as Mr Thompkiss is apt to say, does move in the most mysterious ways!
All thought of taming Miss Betsy flew from Anna Reynolds' head as she observed the affecting scene in the marble Entrance Hall from above. Mr Darcy, dark and towering, was embracing his sister, whose silver-gold curls fell in disorder about slim shoulders that heaved softly. What ever is the matter with my poor chicks?
"Sir! Miss Darcy! We did not look to see you home so soon!" she cried, hastening down the stairs to assume management of the footmen as they struggled with the luggage - surely the same trunks she had herself packed with loving care before the holiday household's departure for the coast. "Jenny! Run along, girl, fetch coffee for the Master and Miss Georgiana. Here, Miss, let me take your bonnet and coat."
"Th - thank you, Mrs Reynolds." Dear Heaven, the poor child was in tears, and Mr Darcy - had he ever looked so grim? And where was she, Mrs Mary Younge, that thought herself ever so high above the Household as Companion to Miss Darcy?
"We will take coffee in the Crimson State Drawing Room, Mrs Reynolds if you please." The words were rapped out, despite the courteous close, and accompanied with a look from the gentleman of the most beseeching urgency. No questions, Reynolds dear, his eyes implored. Not now, perhaps not ever.
Careless of how his servants stared, Mr Darcy guided his sister backward toward the elegant formal room he had named, seldom used by reason of its size and granduer, which overlooked the lake, his tall person stooped deliberately to conceal her tear-stained face from avid eyes. "That will be all," he added, an afterthought, to the silent watchers.
"And what are you gawking at, Tom Roberts?" Wrong to accuse the nearest to hand of a shared offence, yet the brusque words released the fluttering dread in Mrs Reynolds' stomach. The young lady - everyone knew - had been intended to remain the summer through at Ramsgate; the gentleman, in Town until further notice. What could bring them home, without warning, in haste and distress, so early?
And where ever is that insufferable creature, Mary Younge, gone?
For two days the servants whispered, every eye noting how Miss Darcy followed her brother close as a second shadow, red-eyed and fretful if she was a moment left alone. Mrs Reynolds sought to stamp out improper speculations - perhaps Miss Bingley was right, a little more discipline is required hereabouts, she decided morosely - but without noticeable success.
There was nothing malicious in the talk; from that, she took comfort. For who was to deny that some disaster had befallen their young lady? What were they, her own folk, to do to help her?
Mr Darcy, she assured the bolder spirits that dared seek her opinion, would have all well in hand. As to Mrs Younge; well, her disappearance was naught to be regretted.
"Aye, that simpering ninny!" Mr Stevens, the gentleman's valet, was apt to take liberties, Anna Reynolds considered, on account of his intimacy with their master. When the senior servants gathered for tea in the kitchen, he was not to be silenced by an old woman's tutting. "Thinking herself made a lady by being paid to attend on one!"
"She came with the finest references, having attended the Earl's daughters afore our lady." Cook, too, a Lambton native to the horror of the Master's more fashionable friends, was never found lacking when opinions were sought. "Lady Matlock was loath to lose her, even to her niece, so they say."
"And Lady Matlock may have her back again!" Stevens countered with spirit. "Fancy she sent her to Miss Georgiana to learn manners, I do! If she never sets foot in the estate again, I shan't miss her!"
Mrs Reynolds pondered much on whether she should bring the Household's chatter to Mr Darcy's attention, only to have the initiative seized from her grasp. Late that second night as, candle in hand, she ended her nightly tour of the house and turned wearily toward the servants' halls and her bed, the summons came. "Mrs Reynolds, Master wants you in his study. Your very earliest convenience, he said to say."
"Then, Mr Edley, I had best go to him directly."
The burly footman flashed her a gap-toothed smile. "Usually what he means, our gent. Goodnight, Mrs Reynolds."
Darcy was standing at the window when she entered at his instruction, coatless and staring out across the shadowy sweep of his park. Omitting to offer a seat as he turned, he declared himself with all the directness he possessed. "The name of Mrs Younge is no more to be spoken in this house, Mrs Reynolds. Be so good as to make all our people aware of the fact."
"Very good, Sir." If he had slept more than an hour in the last week, it did not show. "Miss Georgiana, Sir..."
He flinched visibly. "My sister has been grossly wronged, Mrs Reynolds." The words emerged reluctantly, as if weighted with lead. "I will not see her further distressed by the ill-considered murmuring of her servants."
"Of course not, Mr Darcy."
Briefly, the gloom lifted; the half-smile he sent her began its life in his shadowed eyes. "Miss Georgiana and I intend to remain a month or more here, and I anticipate that my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, will shortly be calling. Please ensure that the Quebec Suite is at its military brightest to receive him."
"Yes, Sir." The young lady's secondary guardian calling, this was alarming indeed! Still, if the poor child had fallen into some folly, she must have had the wit to confess all to her devoted brother. He would, not matter what the offence, forgive it.
Darcy eyed the discreet and deferential woman before him, her eyes cast down: the picture of the proper servant. Ah, but you have never been that, dearest Reynolds! Were you so, I should have no compunction in dismissing you without another word. And that, I cannot do.
He cleared his throat. "I am not deaf to the conversations which occur in Pemberley's corners. You may inform any that should enquire, Mary Younge is not the respectable woman that myself, my uncle and aunt imagined. Further speculations are unacceptable. Neither myself or my sister were satisfied with the performance of her duties."
"Her name will not be spoke by any of us, Sir, rest assured. She was not - liked among our people, Mr Darcy."
Again he favoured her with the ghost of his usual smile. "I doubted she was, Mrs Reynolds: I was informed long ago by the Earl that certain members of his household dared name her difficult on occasion."
There was more, but it was not her place to probe his mind. "It would have been quite impossible for Miss Georgiana to remain at Ramsgate unchaperoned, Sir."
"Quite so." He exhaled the words, relieved to be spared the effort of excusing changed plans, and all the while revealing more of himself than he dreamed to his oldest adherent. "That will be all, Mrs Reynolds; I thank you for delaying your retirement to come to me. Forgive me!"
"Don't trouble yourself on my account, Mr Darcy; I was touring the house a final time when you sent for me. Bid you goodnight, Sir."
"Goodnight, dear Reynolds." He spoke the words to the closing door, allowing his stiffly-held shoulders to slump at last. It is done, Darcy. Georgiana's secret is safe, and by a small precaution now, a little harm is prevented. Dear Heaven, had you only protected her so well from the scheming of a fortune hunter as you do from the tattle of her servants!