by Gail McEwen
“Oh, we do as Lady Anne would do. Always have. And Mr Darcy thinks that is best.”
“And when we don’t know what Lady Anne would do?” Elizabeth asked smoothly.
The old woman looked highly surprised. “Lady Anne always knew what to do!”
“Yes,” her new mistress said patiently, “but since Lady Anne is no longer with us there just might be an occasion—very rare, I admit—that we are at a loss to know what she would do. What then?”
The housekeeper looked puzzled. “Well, I have been here for thirty years, ma’am and since Lady Anne passed on—God rest her precious soul—I don’t—”
“What about that incident with the carpets in the lower drawings rooms?” Elizabeth said impatiently. “Remember when you told me about those?”
“Ye-es,” Mrs Reynolds answered and then her forehead wrinkled over in deep concern. “Oh, but we asked Mr Darcy! We ask Mr Darcy,” she added triumphantly. “That’s what we do, don’t we?”
“We ask Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said pointedly at Holly.
Mrs Reynolds looked very pleased with herself and took the opportunity to remind her mistress she needed instructions for the inventory of the china pieces and the restoration of the bedroom furniture in the servants’ wing. The cook, she added, had lately complained about the lack of quality meat from the usual suppliers and was demanding a change. Was there anything Mrs Darcy wanted to do?
Elizabeth sighed. “Do what Lady Anne would do,” she said and the housekeeper went away happily enough.
“Very well,” Holly said quietly when the door closed behind Mrs Reynolds. “I see.”
“She is the kindest creature in the world but she is no teacher. Can’t you be?” Elizabeth asked pleadingly.
“I have no experience . . . ”
“Oh, hang experience! There is enough experience in this house to run the whole country! What I need is someone who will teach me the theory. Holly, I can keep a little expense book for my pin money but other than that I am grossly under-prepared for my task here. There is nothing in my education or self-education that can help me very much or very quickly. I need to understand what goes on in all these books even though I can see very well how it all turns out.”
“Well, I’m not surprised you are overwhelmed by all this,” Holly sighed before she wet her fingers and sifted through yet another list of inventories. “Even if you did leave it all to Mrs Reynolds and her knowledge of Lady Anne’s old ways there’s still the whole of the correspondence, the billing, the purchases and . . . ” she pointed to the small portfolio that was lying on the table.
“Stockton Hall,” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know why Mr Darcy won’t hire a competent new housekeeper for his aunt in that little place he keeps for her but . . . ”
“Oh, I think I do,” Holy replied dryly. “He thinks you can do it better.”
“I wish I could.”
“You will. Now about this double housekeeping book . . . ”
But something in her cousin’s eye made her stop and put down the ledger. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Holly raised her eyebrow and her cousin left her chair and went to stare out of the window. Following her over, Holly took Elizabeth’s hand. “Don’t despair, Eliza. Don’t let Mrs Reynolds make you think you cannot grasp this and that you can’t be as good a Mistress of Pemberley as there ever was. You already love this house and this estate, how can that not translate into care and prosperous industry on its behalf in the end?”
“You are right, of course you are. I just wish . . . ”
“Wish what?”
“That I had more time.”
Holly did not understand and showed it freely. Reassurances that Elizabeth was surely clever enough to grasp the elementary of good economy and frugal housekeeping within a week or so if they were hard at it was met with an indulgent smile.
“Oh, you are sweet. But perhaps soon that won’t matter so much.”
Suddenly Holly grew suspicious. “Eliza—.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She gave a little laugh. “I really don’t know but....”
Holly’s eyes bulged. “Are you . . . ?”
A little giggle escaped her cousin. “I just told you, I don’t know.”
“But you suspect?”
“I have a very suspicious mind.”
Holly felt a giddiness travel up her stomach and emotion swell in her throat. “Oh, Elizabeth!” She impulsively threw her arms around her and then paused. “Don’t you ever let me take the last griddle scone again! Or until . . . you know.”
Elizabeth laughed at her. A happy laugh that made Holly’s eyes water with joy.
“Mr Darcy must be so pleased!”
“Well, he is always pleased with me but not unusually so yet.”
“You have not told him?”
“I told you, Holly, I am not sure.”
“But—”
“I’ll tell him when I know. Until then I do not want to get his hopes up. He never says so, but I know this is very, very important to him.”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “It seems to me, Eliza, there is a lot you do not tell your husband.”
“And there is a lot he does not tell me,” she replied calmly. “And we both have excellent reasons for doing so. Besides, this is nothing like my complete ineptitude at living up to the managerial skills of Lady Anne. If my suspicions are correct, I have at least one advantage over her and I will not spoil my victory by revealing my triumph too soon!”
“Forgive me, cousin, but as wonderful as this might be, I don’t see how it will greatly change any of this,” she said with a sweeping motion to the desk. “Pleased he may well be, but Mr Darcy will still have his own expectations . . . ”
“As, perhaps, will I,” Elizabeth said mischievously.
“ . . . that have nothing to do with yours!” Holly finished.
“But surely, if one is in the delicate condition, one cannot be expected to be troubled with all this tedious work. It could not be healthy . . . could it?”
“Elizabeth? Are you suspecting because you have reason, or are you merely hoping because you are looking for a way out? Because, as lovely and wonderful and exciting as that would be, it will not release you from the necessity of housekeeping.”
“No? But I remember Mama, with Kitty and Lydia; she was hardly able to do anything. She required so much rest and peace and quiet . . . ” she tapered off when she noticed the expression on her cousin’s face. “Oh . . . I see . . . that was just Mama.”
“Oh, very well,” Mrs Darcy allowed her face to sink into a pout and, with a sigh, flopped into the chair standing before the delicate desk weighed down with so many imposing journals and documents. “We might as well get started then!”
“BUT THIS IS SO UNNECESSARY!” Elizabeth snapped an hour later. “Why cannot I just keep a running total of expenditures and be done with it?”
“Yes, you will do exactly that, in this,” Holly sighed and pointed to the pocket memorandum book—again, “in here. Daily, hourly, whenever necessary, but when the quarter rolls around, how are you going to account for those expenditures? Mr Darcy will want to know what became of the housekeeping money. How much went toward the purchase of meat, of fruit, what was spent on clothing and allowances—and of that money spent on meat, how much went for bacon and how much for lamb, and how much of the money spent on bacon went to Mr Cleaver, the butcher, and how much to Farmer Ted from down the way whose wife smokes bacon for a little extra? How much of the clothing allowance was spent on new dresses for Mrs Darcy and how much went for liveries for the coachmen, and of the dress money, how much went to—”
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth interrupted her, “you have made your point loud and clear! And I am just expected to have such detailed information at hand? That not only sounds unreasonable, it sounds impossible!”
“It is not impossible,” Holly insisted. “You are a clever and capable woman and if you have no trouble quoting large passag
es from your favourite poet and listing all the Kings and Queens of Britain since Egbert of Wessex by heart, there is nothing to stop you from conquering this!”
She was given a dark look by her cousin and then a triumphant “ha!” when there was a knock on the door. When they were informed that the curate at Lambton requested an audience with Mrs Darcy on matters of grave importance, Elizabeth took the opportunity to loudly whisper, “Nothing to stop me, you say?”
It turned out that this first morning was reliably indicative of all the following mornings that week. Elizabeth would coax her cousin out to walk, Holly would fight her growling stomach until she succumbed to temptation on the fourth day and asked Annie to find her a little something to have in bed before joining her cousin, they would walk and talk and be willing admirers of the wild northern winter, come in to a lovely breakfast where the men were conspicuously absent, indulge themselves for an hour and then closet themselves in Elizabeth’s study only to be interrupted by some kind of visitor.
The curate came twice that week. Possibly because on his first visit the sight of Mrs Darcy’s friend had thrown his sensibilities into such disarray that he could only discuss the church ceremony and charitable contributions offered to the restoration of the organ pipes and he was forced to return to consult about the unfortunate case of two silver candle sticks missing from the altar, only to be found in the rain water barrel behind the vestry.
Besides such consultations, there were visits from three local families and four unknowns passing through from Yorkshire, Manchester and Lincolnshire. They were all on their way back to Town after Christmas and passing through the pretty landscape with the promise to see Pemberley and the new Mrs Darcy was apparently too great an attraction to be missed. Holly could not help but sympathise with at least that part of their plea, but Elizabeth was clearly growing tired of the expectation of complete recuperation from a tiring journey and entertainment after a boring trip as an unquestioned courtesy owed by the Pemberley family.
After trying to return to their work later, they invariably discovered they were too exhausted and that there was not enough time before dinner, which, it appeared, Mr Darcy liked at an early hour so he could be up early again to shoot with his friend. Dinner, Holly thought, was really the high point of their day. Possibly after breakfast. Only once was it disturbed by a visitor, but the gentle old man from the neighbouring estate had only been persuaded by Mr Darcy to accept his hospitality at the end of a day of business in Derby and with no wife and a modest establishment waiting for him, the man had accepted with gratitude, though clearly with a view of making a speedy return afterwards to home and hearth.
The evenings were mostly spoiled by the day’s incessant activities and gentlemen can never be said to be on their best in a ladies’ drawing room after a day’s shooting anyway. Added to it the incomprehensible eagerness to head out again the next day only to be rewarded with the same exhaustion made the guests and their hosts sure to retire sooner rather than later.
“And how do you like it, being an understudy to the Mistress of a Great House all day?” his lordship asked while playing with his wife’s ring on her finger, firmly holding her to him in the cold room and without caring to put his clothes back on to guard himself against it.
Holly stretched and stuck out her toes from under the blanket to feel the cool air around them. “Mmm . . . I think she will have a lot more on her plate than I could ever have. From what you have told me, all I need to be proficient at Cumbermere is to be stingy with my lord’s funds and generous with my lord’s affections.”
Baugham laughed and dug his hands around her naked waist. “After wallowing in envy at the state of my friend’s management and prosperity, I am beginning to feel I have been extraordinarily clever after all!”
“All you did was allow yourself to be convinced by my obvious qualities. I for my part have learnt to be stingy all my life and desperately saved my affections for you until I nearly burst!”
His hand moved across her belly and she pulled away with a little squeak. “You always do that when you know I’m right and you have nothing to say!”
“Do what?” But his fingers travelled lightly up her ribs.
“That!” Holly desperately pulled the sheets around her person to be spared the tickling but her husband was faster and he rolled over her, pinning her still warm and flushed body under his and sinking down into her.
“Goodness!” Holly said and traced his arms, supporting him above her, feeling him against her asking for entrance once again, “it seems you have cause for self-congratulation after all!”
“Well, if you don’t care for tickling on the outside . . . ”
“I did not say I didn’t like it,” she gasped, feeling him fill her still tender and exposed body, “I just said I was close to bursting . . . again.”
“Burst for me,” he whispered, knowing how she took delight in his voice egging her on when her body was still tired and lethargic, “open up for me again and let me in. I’ll love you; I’ll love you so well you’ll never regret having waited for me to come to my senses.”
“Senses,” she echoed already lost in them again, “no sense, just senses . . . ”
“BUT WHY MUST I WRITE everything in so many places? I’ve written here,” the Mistress of Pemberley stabbed her finger on the ledger entry, smudging the ink in the process, “that I spent 10£ on cheese, paid out to Mr Tuttle, in my merchant account. Why must I write it again here,” she stabbed irritably again, “here, and here!”
Holly’s head was beginning to ache. “Whatever is added in one place must be subtracted from another. If you add 10£ for cheese to your merchant account, you must subtract it from your cash monies—otherwise, you will never know how much cash you still have, and while you’re here and recording, you might as well list it in your grocery expenses, and, if you like, since this purchase was made in preparation for your Candlemas entertainment, you might want to start a separate page for those expenses as well—”
“And I suppose a ledger accounting for breaths inhaled, making certain they balance with breaths exhaled, would not be amiss either? Oh, Holly! All these numbers! I think I will go mad!”
“Don’t be silly, Eliza. It’s a small price to pay for the right to take walks on these beautiful grounds. Your beautiful grounds.” Elizabeth smiled, but the smile faded as Holly’s face grew thoughtful again. She pulled another large book close, “You ought to, while you’re recording your purchases, bring the total over here as well. If you post as you go on your balance sheet, it will already be there when it’s time to reconcile your accounts at the end of the week
“Week? I thought you said I could do it weekly or monthly! I was hoping for monthly.”
“Elizabeth, Pemberley is a huge estate . . . I think you had better do both. But, if you keep up and nothing gets out of hand, your quarterly accounts should be a matter of moving over a few totals and adding or subtracting as necessary. It is the mistakes you don’t catch that multiply and cause trouble.”
“And you will still be here on Lady Day to help me through that, won’t you?” Elizabeth teased, though Holly could tell her words were not entirely devoid of wishful thinking. She sighed herself, on Lady Day she supposed, she would have her own accounts to present.
“I think not,” she smiled, a bit wistful herself, “but I think you will do fine. If not, you will write.”
“You will at least make me a list before you go?”
Holly’s eyes had wandered to the window, where the gentlemen could be seen returning from a day of sport. “Of course,” she said absently, while standing up and brushing the creases from her gown.
Watching them walking toward the house, she saw them stop, saw Lord Baugham point toward something in the distance, saw Mr Darcy follow his gaze and begin to speak and gesture animatedly, then both turn and walk off in the new direction, leaving the servants to carry their guns and gear back to the house alone.
“I suppose it is
wrong of me to feel slightly put out over how much he enjoys your husband’s company,” Holly said as she sat back down again. “He must have been missing male companionship and outdoor sports.”
“Is that so?” Elizabeth gave her a raised eyebrow and a look that made Holly blush. “Did you really spend all your time secluded together at Clyne?”
“Well, yes,” Holly smiled. “It was our honeymoon . . . ”
Elizabeth dropped her pen and leaned back in the chair. “That sounds heavenly,” she said wistfully.
“Oh Elizabeth!” Holly cried. “Has your entire honeymoon been like this? Endless visitors and interruptions?”
“Very nearly. We did have five lovely days in London, and then two very nice days of travelling—”
“I would not count travelling days as ‘nice’ by any means,” Holly scoffed. “His lordship and I nearly snapped each others’ heads off before we decided on our detour, but by then our honeymoon was effectively over anyway. If we were not here with you, we would be in Cheshire.” She gave her cousin a sad smile. “I am very glad we are here with you.”
“And you will stay, if not till Lady Day, at least until Candlemas, won’t you? Since you have been privy to all my failings, I should at least want to give you the opportunity to witness a small success of mine.”
“Of course, and I hope you will let me help you in any way I can.”
“You can be sure of that,” Elizabeth smiled. “But, for now, what do you say we put these books away, get into our coats and find out what intriguing sight has kept the gentlemen out of doors so much longer than usual? Before someone else comes to call.”
“I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU can stand it!”
Mr Darcy broke out into a most uncharacteristic laugh that quickly died down as he got hold of his amusement but continued in a broad and smug smile.
“It is who I am! And regardless of how much you delight in this role as the ‘wicked baron’ and ‘indifferent landlord’ you don’t fool me for a minute.”
Baugham poked at the frozen stumps of straw sticking up at the edge of the frozen pond. “This will never hold all those people cramming themselves into one sleigh.”