After a rich breakfast of ham, eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, tomatoes and mushrooms, Darcy headed down to the kitchen for his meeting with Mrs Reynolds.
But his entrance there took a rather unexpected turn.
It wasn't that everyone dropped whatever they were doing the moment he came in.
It wasn't that anyone sitting down got to their feet either.
Nor that they all – from Mrs Reynolds to the scullery maids – politely turned to face him.
No, such things are common practice whenever the master or mistress enters the servants' hall during their morning break.
What definitely was not common practice was the solid round of applause with which he was received!
He coloured with embarrassment, and even though a bashful little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, he hardly knew where to look.
"Well done, Master," James the footman cordially declared once the applause began to ebb.
Still as red as a lobster, he cleared his throat. "Thank you, James. And everyone."
"You were simply wonderful!" Maddy the maid trilled. "So brave and valiant! Like a knight in shining armour!"
Darcy couldn't quell a self-conscious little chortle at the heroic comparison.
"Cor! I wish I'd been there to see it!" a young bootboy – Robert – cried. "I'd have loved to see the Dragon Lady taken down a peg or two!"
"Robert!" Mrs Reynolds chided. "Remember who you are talking to."
"No, it's alright." Darcy fidgeted uneasily with his signet ring. "I do understand your feelings. Unfortunately, my aunt will still be staying here for a few more days at least. So I suppose we should all make the best of it."
"We will, sir," Mr Graham promised for all assembled, and with that, Mrs Reynolds led the way to her office.
But just before the door fell shut, they heard one of the girls' voices again, in a totally besotted, "Oh, isn't he just positively gorgeous…?"
Darcy's barely receded blush immediately returned with a vengeance, whereas Mrs Reynolds' face suddenly sported a deep frown.
"Never mind her, Master. I'll have a word with her. Please, have a seat." She gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Would you fancy a cup of tea? I know you've just finished breakfast, but…"
Darcy nodded. "Tea would be nice."
She went back to the kitchen to fetch tea for two, and he also heard her scolding someone – quite possibly the love-struck maid. He felt sorry for the girl; he knew from ample experience that being on the receiving end of Mrs Reynolds' scoldings was no piece of cake. But it was probably for the best to nip these things in the bud.
Instead, he looked around the room. The housekeeper's office was a light and spacious room next to the kitchen, with a large window looking out over the courtyard. There was the inevitable desk of course, and the bookshelves against one of the walls were stocked with ledgers and other paperwork. However, despite these office accoutrements, the room had more the atmosphere of a cozy drawing room than a study. Maybe it was the overall decoration. Or the multitude of houseplants on the window sill. Or simply a woman's hand.
When she came back with the tea, at first they just sipped their hot drinks in companionable silence. But at long last, Mrs Reynolds put down her cup and sighed. "Master, I must ask you not to encourage these girls in their adulation of you. They are young and impressionable, and some of them are hopelessly romantic. It makes them an all too easy prey for someone in your position."
Darcy started back in affront. And hurt. "You know me better than that, Mrs Reynolds."
"Do I?" She tilted her head, which somehow made her look both sad and inquisitive. "Master, may I be frank?"
"By all means."
A sigh. "You have been away at school most of the time for nigh on ten years. Yes, I do remember you as the honest, lovable and good-hearted scamp you were before you went off to school, as do many of the staff. But are you still that same person?"
She held up her hand to forestall his answer. "You may very well be the adult version of that honourable scamp I once knew – and personally, I very much hope you are. Still, it is a truth universally acknowledged that people do change over time. Especially as they grow into adulthood. And as a result, we – the servants, that is – we don't really know where we have you right now."
Darcy rubbed his face in resignation. "I understand. I will have to earn the servants' trust as well."
"In a way, yes," Mrs Reynolds confirmed. "And I'm afraid that escapade with Master Fitzwilliam the other day was not the best way to start."
Darcy felt his cheeks burn. "I know. It was stupid of me to overimbibe like that. I am truly sorry; it won't happen again."
"I know. We already covered that this morning. But I am sure you understand the impression it made on the servants. And with the general reputation of university students, I am afraid that you can hardly blame your staff for being somewhat… wary of you. Even those who have known you all your life."
Darcy closed his eyes with a sigh. "And now they think I might get drunk like that on a regular basis." It wasn't even a question.
"Exactly. That, and dallying with the girls. Other well-known student vices like gambling don't immediately affect the servants, but drunkenness and fornication all too easily do."
"Mrs Reynolds." His brow furrowed, trying to decide on the best way to explain himself. "I understand your worries, but I can assure you that I have stayed true to my upbringing even as a student. And I have never 'dallied with girls', as you call it." A grimace. "Are you sure you are not confusing me with a certain George Wickham of our mutual acquaintance?"
She chuckled. "Never."
"Well, that is a relief at least." He thought for a moment. "Mrs Reynolds, if you like, I can summon multiple witnesses from my years in Cambridge – including my valet Mr Andrews who probably knows me better than anyone. They will all gladly testify that they have never, ever seen me truly inebriated. Let alone as inebriated as the other night. That was truly an exception, and I have no intention of ever repeating the experience." A dejected sigh. "If only because I scared poor Georgiana half to death; she thought I was dying." A grimace. "I thought I was dying."
Mrs Reynolds chuckled again. "I believe you. And I will certainly confer with Mr Andrews, as you suggest. You are right – he would be aware of such things. It's just that he is not the most talkative fellow, and I confess it had slipped my mind so far to consult him. Still, it doesn't negate the fact that you will need to convince the rest of the staff of your good character – by virtue of your behaviour alone."
Darcy nodded his understanding. And grinned. "Maybe, if one of the servants witnesses me overimbibing again, they could go and fetch you, and you could box my ears?"
She laughed with him. "I shall keep it under advisement – just in case." She sobered again right away though. "However, that is only one aspect of it though. The thing is, your people want to trust you – if only because you are their master and you are the son of your father. But you cannot simply assume their loyalty and trust because of it. They are certainly willing to give their new master their loyalty and trust, but you will have to show them that you are worthy of it."
Darcy sighed. "No mistakes, huh?"
"Nonsense – that is not what I'm talking about. Everybody makes mistakes, and nobody expects you to be perfect."
"Then what are you talking about?"
"Your general treatment of the servants. You have been spoonfed with the basics since you were a toddler: always be courteous, honest and fair, and never ask anything immoral of your subordinates."
He nodded. That mantra was an old friend indeed.
"Now that you are their master, it goes a bit further. You will need to show them that you value and appreciate them – and not just their work, but also their person. And I don't mean pecuniary appreciation; I mean your entire attitude towards them. Show them that you care about them, about their well-being, about their lives, their families. Both in word and in deed. And instead of the question about immorality, practise empathy when you ask something of them: if the roles were reversed, would you yourself be willing to do that task?"
He nodded slowly. "How many people are there actually on the staff?"
"Fifty-two on the indoor staff here at Pemberley; we'll go over them in a moment. Mr Wickham has the details for the outdoor staff."
He blew the hair off his forehead. "It sounds as if I am going to have a full-time job just taking care of the staff."
"Oh, it's not so bad," Mrs Reynolds reassured him. "Much of it is simply inherent in your every-day interactions with them. And in time, you will be able to offload much of it on your wife. But until then, like your father these past years, you are going to have to be both master and mistress of the estate. I can take on a little of it, but the responsibility rests first and foremost on your shoulders."
He raked his fingers through his hair. That was not something he wanted to hear, no matter if he had already come to that same conclusion himself some days ago. "So where do I start?"
"Let us go over the staff first, so you know what we are talking about." She picked up a list from her desk and handed it to him. "These are the people currently working on Pemberley's indoor staff."
He skimmed the perfectly ordered list, from the butler to the cleaning staff. It all made perfect sense: the underbutler and the underhousekeeper, the footmen, housemaids, laundry ladies, bootboys, porters, Georgie's two nurses and her governess, Cook, a seamstress, a stillroom lady, some security men, scullery maids, dairy maids and kitchen helpers, and Mr Andrews and Mr Twelvetrees.
"Mr Twelvetrees will be leaving us though," he pointed out.
"Yes, I know," she concurred. "I have spoken with all the indoor staff, and with the exception of Mr Twelvetrees, they all expressed the wish to stay on, if that is your wish."
Darcy couldn't help a smirk. "Was that before or after the Battle of the Dining-Room?"
She chortled. "Before. I confess there were a few people who were a bit in two minds about you – they feared you would allow Lady Catherine to take over. But after the Battle of the Dining-Room as you so aptly call it, I have no doubt they have come around."
Darcy nodded. "Well, I see no reason to change anything then. I am sure you have everything well in hand."
She inclined her head. "Then there are Mr and Mrs Manning, who are in charge of a skeleton staff to keep the house in London in good condition. Whenever you intend to stay there, you just let me know and I will coordinate the necessary arrangements with them."
Darcy merely nodded. As a true son of his father's, he had no great love for the crush of London. Still, when circumstances demanded your presence there, it was good to have your own place to retreat to.
He couldn't quite quench a little grimace as he recalled he would be forced to stay there for a while next year in order to find a wife, and he wondered briefly if he might get away with finding a suitable bride here in the neighbourhood.
But no. Not likely. The marriage market for the circles in which he was to find his wife was firmly and exclusively based in London. And Fitzwilliam's warnings the other day made him dread the whole circus of balls, assemblies, theatre visits, dinners, parties, soirees and calls (and heaven knows what else) even more. Unlike some, he was no social butterfly, and the noise level alone at such gatherings often threatened to overwhelm him. Plus he abhorred the inane chatter that permeated such occasions, and he never got the hang of participating in it. If only someone was willing to discuss something of substance…
"Master?"
He startled as Mrs Reynolds interrupted his thoughts. "Yes? I beg your pardon, Mrs Reynolds. My thoughts went off on a tangent. Where were we again?"
"The servants. I would recommend that you make time one of these days to inspect the servants' quarters with me. It's been a while since your father last did that. I am not aware of any issues there at present, but it would show your genuine interest in their well-being."
"And happy servants make happy masters," he recalled one of his mother's life mottos.
"Indeed they do." Mrs Reynolds couldn't help a chuckle. "Would some time next week be convenient? I think it can wait until after the bustle of Saturday's gathering."
He nodded his approval.
"And as for happy servants, I think we need to discuss how we are to handle your aunt."
He groaned, and buried his face in his hands for a moment.
She fondly patted his knee. "Now don't be like that. You really put your foot down this morning; James and Maddy couldn't stop talking about it. I am proud of you – you handled the situation very well."
A heavy sigh as he resurfaced. "Fitzwilliam had just counselled me this morning to mark my territory. The situation in the dining-room simply screamed for it."
"Resulting in the now famous Battle of the Dining-Room." She tittered, but immediately turned serious. "The question is: what do we do with your aunt? Do you want us to humour her and simply comply with her every demand? Do you want everything out of the ordinary to be referred to you first? Or…?"
Darcy thought for a moment. "As long as her demands are reasonable, I see no reason to deny her. But unreasonable demands – can I leave those to you to decide?"
She nodded. "If you wish."
"I would like to be informed of them though," he continued. "So if she steps too far out of line, I can attempt to take her to task again." For a moment, he contemplated an exaggerated shudder, but decided such wouldn't do for the valiant knight in shining armour currently serving as master of Pemberley.
On Mrs Reynolds' face appeared an appreciative little smile. "That sounds like a workable strategy."
Emboldened, he added, "And things like the seating at the dinner table or the assignment of rooms are definitely not for her to determine. If she tries to act the mistress again, you can tell her right away that you need to discuss such things with me first."
"And may I assume that no servant will lose their position over refusing to comply with unreasonable demands from your aunt?"
"Of course they will not. I know all too well how difficult my aunt can be. They need not worry on that account."
She nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you. That will go a long way in reassuring the staff." She consulted a note on her desk. "Then the next item on the agenda: I would like to set a time for us to meet every week. We will need to go over the household accounts together, and I would need your approval for any major acquisitions. Staff issues can be discussed at those times, too, and it would be helpful if you could share your plans for the week ahead, most importantly whether you plan to be at home or elsewhere, or whether you expect visitors. We are certainly capable of handling unexpected occurrences, but I'm sure you understand that the household runs more smoothly with some advance notice."
Darcy agreed. "What time did you have in mind?"
"Your father and I used to meet on Mondays after breakfast. Would that be suitable for you, too?"
"I don't see why not. Monday it is then."
"Then: the menu for the coming days."
Darcy grumbled. How many decisions was a man supposed to make in one morning?! "Can we not just leave that to Cook, as we discussed before? As long as she leaves Brussel sprouts off the menu, I am happy with whatever she serves."
An amused Mrs Reynolds shook her head. "Well, if that is what you prefer, you can certainly leave the decisions regarding the menu to Cook. But you will still have to approve them. Would you like her to stay clear of Miss Darcy's particular dislikes as well?"
"If they are not too many?"
"Spinach, all forms of cabbage, and she flatly refuses to eat rabbit meat."
Darcy raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why that?"
A chuckle. "Because of Bunny, her most beloved cuddly animal, and consequently, all the rabbits on the farm. She insists she will not eat her best friends, and gets mighty upset when someone else does."
Darcy rolled his eyes. "Alright. No rabbits on the menu. And I don't mind missing out on cabbage either, but I rather do like spinach myself. Perhaps an alternative could be served together with spinach?"
"I will pass it on to Cook," she promised. "Anything else?"
He frowned, and shook his head. "Nothing that comes to mind right now."
"Then I will show you around the storage rooms now, so you get an idea of the type of goods and their quantities this household uses. Or…" She checked the little watch that was pinned to her bodice. "It's about lunch time for the staff. That means they all gather in the kitchen, so I suppose I had better introduce them now first, if that is alright with you? And then we can tour the storage rooms afterwards."
Darcy agreed, and threw back the last of his by now cold tea before getting to his feet.
"And Master?" Mrs Reynolds halted before opening the door to the kitchen.
"Yes?"
Her features softened. "For what it's worth, I am already quite convinced that you have indeed grown up into the adult version of that lovable scamp I once knew."
Had he still been that young lovable scamp, he might have thrown his arms around her neck and hugged her. But faced with the adult version, Mrs Reynolds was equally content with the shy little smile of gratitude that her words brought to her master's face.