Darcy’s final birthday task was completed after the Bennets departed and Charles had gone up to bed. Descending the stairs to the dimly lit, empty kitchen area, he saw what he had come for. While unbeknownst to him on this tenth day of November, Darcy would reveal the full extent of his sentimentality to his new bride that upcoming Christmas when he shared his collected boxes of mementos from significant events in his life. One of those objects was the light of life candle from his cake, which the butler had saved for him as requested.
The candle was lying on a clean linen napkin in the exact center of the long cooking prep table. Right beside it was a fork and a plate with a big slice of cake. Apparently, his birthday celebrating would continue a bit longer after all.
9
Relative Transition
When not otherwise preoccupied entertaining their handsome fiancés, the brides-to-be had begun incrementally sorting through their possessions in preparation for relocating to their new homes. Jane would be moving a mere three miles away, making the job easier for her on several counts. Lizzy, conversely, would be at Pemberley in Derbyshire, a nearly two-day journey to traverse the one-hundred-fifty miles. Not an impossible distance to send anything she might forget, but assuredly life would transition smoother if her belongings were readily available from the start.
Jane and Lizzy had shared a bedroom for the bulk of their lives. According to their mother, she and the girls’ old nurse had tried to make them sleep in their respective beds, going so far as to punish them in various ways. Jane remembered refusals of late-night snacks and water, while Lizzy recalled employment of the switch a time or two. Nothing worked. Inevitably, the siblings, born a bare year apart, would tiptoe through the dark, always ending up in the room assigned to Lizzy.
Mr. Bennet had, in a rare episode of inserting his will into a childrearing matter, finally called a firm halt to the separate-bedchamber endeavor. It helped that Lydia was born at about that same time, giving Mrs. Bennet and the nurse something better to occupy their minds. From then on, Jane’s bedroom, while technically still belonging to her, was set aside for guests. Though rarely slept in, the bedroom had become an overflow for the amassed belongings of both Jane and Lizzy, which now meant that despite sharing a sleeping space, the oldest Bennets had more to sift through than initially believed.
Over the weeks, some headway had been made in discarding old garments and other items deemed no longer necessary. After twenty plus years living in the same house, both had accumulated an outlandish quantity of what was, if honest, primarily junk. To a degree, it was relieving to have a concrete reason to dig through stored boxes and crammed trunks. Lizzy gave up counting after the tenth time she examined some object with a deeply significant meaning to her and asked, “Does anyone remember where I got this or who gave it to me?” All of those ended in the pile thrown out with the refuse or the one for charity, depending upon its condition. So far, the pile for the garbage was winning the game.
It was a plodding process. In part, this was due to handsome fiancés consuming their time and thoughts. Laxity in a chore as boring and labor intensive as cleaning closets was understandable when the alternative was so much pleasanter.
Primarily, as they admitted to each other when alone, dawdling at the job was a way to postpone facing the inevitable. The sisters were overjoyed to be married, naturally. At times they were unable to think of anything else but the future with the men they loved. They were also cognizant of the fast-approaching day when their lives would irrevocably change. Their emotions were an odd combination of nostalgia for their childhood home and hesitation to relinquish their familiar lives.
Nevertheless, one cannot procrastinate forever. Two days after Mr. Darcy’s birthday celebration, the opportunity to put a large dent into the project came along.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had ridden north before daybreak that morning for a two-day shooting party at a university friend of Darcy’s. As explained in animated tones to the politely listening females, the man owned an estate renowned for large quantities of pheasant, grouse, and mainly, migrating woodcock. As Lizzy and Jane now knew in more depth than ever dreamed of, the woodcock was a highly prized bird not readily found during the shooting season.
“They rarely remain in Derbyshire,” Darcy had explained with genuine vexation, “even with Mr. Burr trying to entice them.” Clearly, the invitation to hunt the elusive woodcock was too compelling to resist.
The gentlemen would return before dinner the following night. Seizing the occasion as much to sidetrack themselves from missing them, they rose early and set to it.
For close to three hours, they managed to maintain an organized process with delineated, tidy stacks. If left to their own devices, the lofty goal of completing the task that day might have been attained. That dream perished when Mary, Kitty, and their mother arrived to help, using the word in the loosest meaning possible.
By noon, the shared bedroom looked as if the wardrobes and bureaus had violently regurgitated their contents! Strewn across every available surface were gowns, undergarments, stockings, hats, gloves, shawls, coats, and more. It was a sea of lace and fabric verily surging as a tide, heaped upon the boxes filled with books, treasured possessions, wall hangings, needle crafts, and the like.
Initially vexed at the assistance and ensuing chaos, Jane and Lizzy soon recognized the underlying motivation. While struggling to reconcile their own mixed emotions over the radical changes happening in their lives, neither of them had paused to consider how their younger sisters and mother would be feeling.
Lydia’s marriage and departure had occurred unexpectedly, allowing no time to prepare. The strained circumstances inhibited talking openly about her situation, the loss of a beloved sister keenly felt but unable to reconcile. With only one correspondence received, it was as if Lydia had disappeared or never existed.
Then, barely a month after that fiasco and still reeling from the effects, Jane and Lizzy had become engaged days apart. Two more gulfs in the Bennet family loomed in front of them. Evidently, the unspoken consensus was to embrace the weeks they had together. Doing so turned a straightforward operation into an opportunity for female camaraderie.
“Oh! I’ve just had the most marvelous idea. Lizzy and Jane should put on their wedding dresses.”
“Kitty, it is bad luck to wear one’s wedding gown before the day.” Lizzy snatched her gown out of Kitty’s hand.
“Pooh!” Kitty snorted. “Such nonsense. You of all people would never believe that.”
“Not normally, true. But when it comes to my marriage and future, I am not about to tempt the temperamental fates. Besides, it is too risky. I inevitably muss my garments ten minutes after donning them.”
Kitty rolled her eyes. Turning to Jane, she set her face into a pleading expression. Jane’s firm shake forestalled a whined entreaty. “Don’t ask, Kitty. Customs are to be respected, no matter how silly, nor do I want to risk a tear or stain.”
“Ha!” Lizzy exclaimed from deep inside the wardrobe. “When have you ever torn or stained a dress?”
“I have…a few times…I am sure of it…” Jane stammered to a halt, rosiness highlighting her cheeks as three pairs of dubious eyes swiveled her way. “Well, if you didn’t run across dirt fields and help feed the barn animals, your clothes might stay cleaner and in better repair, Lizzy.”
Content that her wedding gown was stowed safely, Lizzy backed away from the wardrobe. “Guilty as charged,” she sang. “I suspect the Pemberley gardeners and groomsmen would frown at their mistress treading into their designated areas, so shall necessarily forego digging in the dirt or helping care for the rabbits, if they even have rabbits.”
“Who cares what the outdoor staff thinks, Lizzy? Mr. Darcy enjoys your outside activities, that is for sure. He stares at you with an intense expression when your cheeks flush from the brisk air. And if tendrils of hair have escaped your bonnet, well, he becomes especially animated!”
“Kitty! My word!”<
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“Well, he does, Mama. I’m not an idiot. I know what he is thinking. So does Mary.”
Mary pressed her lips primly together and continued to fold Jane’s shawls into precise squares, but her cheeks pinked and eyes faintly twinkled. Lizzy had again busied herself inside the wardrobe, hiding her dreamy smile and trembling hands. If any of them knew just how animated and intense Mr. Darcy truly was…
“Men are always thinking about…that.” Mrs. Bennet stumbled on the last word and fluttered her hand nervously in the air. “This is part of the problem with the male gender if you ask me.”
“Doesn’t seem like a problem to me,” Kitty objected.
“Oh! How innocent you are, my Kitty. Jane and Lizzy will soon learn how it is—”
“Mama, could you help me with these stockings? Your method of rolling saves space, and you always manage a tighter bundle than me.” Jane’s casual interruption had the immediate desired effect. Whether Mrs. Bennet giving her opinion was terminated altogether or merely delayed was another question.
Muffling her groan within the folds of hanging garments, Lizzy fervently beseeched the heavens for help. With increasing frequency, she and Jane were subjected to oblique insinuations of the “discomforts of the marriage bed” with the inevitable advice of clever ways to avoid “a man’s persistent urges.”
Is it too much to ask, she prayed to any listening angels, for the topic to pass and not spark another annoying diatribe?
Unfortunately, the angels must have been busy elsewhere.
“Why are your new shifts and other undergarment made of such thin fabrics and adorned with lace and ribbon accents?” Mrs. Bennet held up one of Lizzy’s new shifts, the supple cotton so finely woven as to be semi-sheer, and sewn with pale-blue ribbons in a braided pattern under the bodice. In her other hand, she brandished a corselet made of silk taffeta. “Why, this stay is barely boned at all! And it is pink!”
“I believe it is more of a lilac color, Mama.” Mary’s technical correction was ignored, thanks to Kitty’s outburst.
“Did you see their new nightclothes?” Grabbing one of Jane’s flimsy nightdresses off the bed, she held it against her body and began prancing about the room in what she deemed a seductive manner. “Ooh! Mr. Bingley, look at how pretty I am! Now, Mr. Darcy, stop staring at me like that! Oh la la!”
Lizzy gave up hiding in the wardrobe. Figuring it was impossible to postpone the inevitable, she widened her eyes in mock innocence and directly addressed her mother.
“Our Aunt Gardiner was of the opinion that undergarments should be visibly appealing, especially for a new bride. In fact, she spoke at length and in meticulous detail of the positive reception derived from wearing them. It is, as you have taught us, Mama, our duty to be obedient wives and please our husbands. Thankfully, we now know, with Aunt’s adamant assurance and education, that we too shall reap the rewards. Something to anticipate, I think. Don’t you?”
Jane’s mouth dropped open and face flushed a magnificent shade of red. Kitty collapsed onto the floor, laughing but also watching for Mrs. Bennet’s reaction. Even Mary was captivated, her eyes uncharacteristically soft and fingers absently stroking the silk chemise lying in her lap.
To their surprise, Mrs. Bennet did not launch into a contradictory lecture. Instead, her cheeks tinted pink and her eyes grew misty, as one hand tremulously patted the skin over her heart. Mouth opening and closing several times, she finally murmured, “Well…I daresay, my sister is a wise woman. It was kind of her to offer advice in…this area. Yes…I… Well now, look here, we have filled most of the boxes! I shall see if we have more…and perhaps some refreshments as well? Yes, and tea, strong tea, would do me…us, good. Indeed…”
Whatever else Mrs. Bennet had to say was inaudible as she scurried from the room. Oh, how difficult it was not to burst into laughter! Avoiding eye contact, each of them called upon inner stores of restraint. A handful of breathy snickers was the only sound for a while as they attacked the project with fresh vigor.
The conversation gradually resumed, starting with a few questions regarding a particular article of clothing or which box to use. Soon the foursome veered into silliness and laughter augmented by the frequent finding of a long-forgotten, buried object sparking remembrances of youthful shenanigans. Intermixed with the merriment were the inevitable discussions about the wedding and future lives of the engaged pair.
“Has Mr. Darcy’s aunt found a lady’s maid for you, Lizzy?” Mary asked at one point.
“Ooh la! Fancy Mrs. Darcy to have a fancy lady’s maid.” Kitty mimed fussing with her hair, face set in a comically arrogant expression. “Shall I wear the taffeta or the silk? The mink or the ermine? Oh! And what jewels shall I choose?”
Laughing, Lizzy tossed a pillow at Kitty’s head, for all the good it did. Kitty brushed the projectile aside without the slightest hiccup in her improvisations. Ignoring her, Lizzy addressed Mary. “Lady Matlock received the names of three experienced maids from women of her acquaintance, all with excellent recommendations. Mr. Darcy has instructed Mrs. Reynolds, the Pemberley housekeeper, to interview each one. I shall leave it up to Mrs. Reynolds to decide. The whole procedure is alien to me, and a bit uncomfortable, to be honest.”
“Mr. Bingley suggested I do the same. I would prefer keeping Betsy with me, as she is skilled at coiffure, but she would be miserable away from Longbourn. I have asked Lady Lucas for advice in the matter.” Jane spoke in her usual imperturbable manner, but her downcast eyes and the pinch of pink to her cheeks were revealing.
Assistance in dressing and styling one’s hair was a necessity of life, of course, so employing a lady’s maid was not the cause of their disquiet. Rather, it was the significance in facing another major change. For as long as they could remember, the Bennet females had primarily relied on each other to lace stays, fasten the unreachable buttons, fix unruly hair, get advice for which shoes or bonnet matched best, and so on. Even with Betsy’s talent with hair, and the maid Kay’s eye for fashion, it was to a sibling they typically turned, never realizing how the daily routines tightened their bonds of unity.
Pausing in her theatrics, Kitty asked Jane, “Did Lady Lucas have any suggestions? If not, Tilly Watson told me that she heard the draper’s daughter, Gertrude, say that Mrs. Goulding is unhappy with her personal maid. You know how she is, complaining loudly the whole time she was in the store, Gertie said, and then never did buy a thing! The poor servant is probably a delightful person who would jump at the chance to escape that harridan.”
“Kitty, for once I shall not scold for your bad judgment in listening to village gossip.”
Beaming at Lizzy’s praise, Kitty then turned to stick her tongue out at the frowning Mary.
Ignoring that exchange, Lizzy went on, “Jane, if half of what Kitty said is true, and knowing Mrs. Goulding it is, you would be performing a service to humanity by snatching the maid away.”
“You have a valid point,” Jane hesitantly agreed. “I can ask Lady Lucas if she is aware of the situation.” Lizzy lifted her brows at Jane’s generous statement. Lady Lucas was renowned as the worst gossip in the area. Not a whisper of local news escaped her hearing. “How about the choices on the list from Lady Matlock? Any whom strike your fancy?”
Lizzy smiled, aware that the question was more to divert the topic away from gossip or Lady Lucas. Indulging Jane’s need for politesse, even as she darted a glance toward Kitty, weighing what response there would be from her, Lizzy admitted, “All three have impeccable references and considerable experience, but my interest was piqued by the one William also favored. A Frenchwoman named Marguerite Charbaneau.”
Predictably, from Kitty, “Ugh! The French. They are so pompous. I can’t imagine this Marguerite would be any fun.”
“A lady’s maid is not there to be entertaining, Kitty.” Mary shook her head, then reminded her, “The French design the clothing you fawn over the most. Why you have plates from Costume Parisien plastered all over your wall, mos
t so scandalous I cannot bear to look at them! Like it or not, the French are the reigning masters of both fashion and cuisine. Does Mr. Darcy employ a French chef, Lizzy?”
“I honestly do not know. I’ve not asked. The food was delicious, I can attest to that. The best I’ve ever tasted, in fact.”
“Mr. Darcy probably insisted on the very best dishes while you were there, no matter who the cook is. After all, he was in love with you already. If Lydia hadn’t gone and tried to elope, you would probably already be married to him.”
Kitty’s offhand comment was truer than she knew, and a topic best avoided. Jane apparently agreed, hastily but smoothly interjecting. “Lizzy, that reminds me. Did you finally finish the questionnaire from Mrs. Reynolds that Mr. Darcy gave you?”
Laughing, Lizzy nodded. “I did. It wasn’t an intensive interrogation as much as a welcome letter expressing her pleasure at our engagement and promise to aid in my transition into the household. The questions were basic queries about my food preferences and aversions, any specific requests to improve my comfort, favorite flowers, that sort of thing. She is so sweet to be concerned.”
“There! I believe those are the last, Lizzy, unless you have others stashed in unusual places.” Mary stepped back from the empty bookcase and gestured toward the five large boxes stacked in front of her. “I never noticed that your book collection was so huge. Do you really need to take all of these? I thought the library at Pemberley was enormous and well stocked.”
“Oh, it is, believe me. In fact, there is more than one library at Pemberley.” At the intrigued expressions worn by Jane and Mary—Kitty was paying no heed to what was, in her mind, a boring subject—Lizzy elaborated. “The main library is, indeed, enormous and two-stories high. There is a curving staircase at either corner of the far end, and access doors from both levels. It is…” She sighed dreamily, her eyes faraway. “…absolutely beautiful. Oh! How you and Papa will love it, Mary!”
Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2 Page 23