A Spring Society
Page 9
"Oh?" Lady Catherine never missed an opportunity for scandal. "And how can you be so sure? I know Richard shall have no difficulty in fulfilling his duty to his elder brother, but what of this sister of yours? I've heard a number of them are quite wild."
Mrs. Darcy pressed her lips into a thin line as memories of her deceased sister Lydia passed through her mind. It had been true that Lydia was the wildest, but she had also been an exuberant and vivacious young woman. She had not deserved to die.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Aunt Catherine." Elizabeth grimaced to use the term. Lady Catherine sniffed at the reference to their relationship. "My sister Mary is by far the most pious of all. If anyone will understand her duty to step aside for a more superior match, it is she."
Lady Matlock raised an eyebrow to Elizabeth, who gently shook her head. Lady Catherine pronounced the obstacle overcome and began asking questions about the ball.
“Who have you secured as the musicians? And I trust we will have no heathen dances from the Continent,” Lady Catherine began speaking as though the ball was hers to command.
Elizabeth had spent the better part of the late afternoon fighting with her mother's wishes to make the ball more and more extravagant. Now that battle was over, a new foe stepped into the fray who was quite insistent that her daughter, Anne, have her due. Elizabeth gently rubbed her temple with her two fingers as she closed her eyes for just a brief moment.
"Perhaps I should go to the music room. To check on the girls," Mrs. Bennett offered once more, and again Elizabeth tried to protest. But this time she was outmaneuvered by both Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine.
"That would be so kind, Mother Bennet." Lady Matlock gave Elizabeth's mother the kindest title of respect available and Mrs. Bennet smiled like a young child receiving a treat. Elizabeth’s stomach lurched as her dinner began to digest and the growing child in her womb stirred restlessly. Her hands rubbed her midsection as she tried once more to convince her mother to stay, but Mrs. Bennet shook her head.
There was little she could do as her mother walked across the drawing room and opened the double doors to leave. Feeling defeated, Elizabeth sighed. She had agreed just that afternoon with her husband to try to keep her mother and Uncle Darcy from being alone together. Her attention called again to useless details about the ball, Elizabeth could only hope the wayward gentleman remained engaged in the library.
Outside the drawing room, Mrs. Bennet shooed away the footman who immediately came to her side for assistance. She began to walk across the grand foyer to the back hall. Her efforts to leave the drawing room were quickly rewarded when her silver fox of a charmer was but ten paces away. He gallantly strolled up to Mrs. Bennet, bowed low to kiss her hand, and turned them both as the lady giggled. With her back now to the direction from whence he came, Uncle Darcy complimented Mrs. Bennet on her frock being such a lovely shade of gray.
"Oh, Alastair, you trifle too long with an old widow like me.”
"And if I disagree, Mrs. Bennet, will you scold me?" He asked her conspiratorially by leaning into her ear. Unfortunately, as Alastair looked over his paramour’s shoulder, an unpleasant sight of the other three men walking down the hall came into view as they turned the corner. "I'm afraid, my darling, our time is at an end. Shall I come to you this evening?" He asked as he once more bent down to kiss her hand.
"I shall leave my door unlocked. But I am not the type of lady to invite strange men into my bedchamber." Mrs. Bennet gave a signal that she was continuing their rather pointless ruse of discretion. Alastair winked as he turned around and walked away, leaving Mrs. Bennet in the foyer to greet her son-in-law and his family members.
"If the two of you will join the ladies in the parlor, I would like a word with Mother Bennet." Mr. Darcy said as they all arrived in the foyer. Robert faltered in his steps as he looked back at his cousin, but Darcy nodded. "Tell my wife I shall be there in but a moment."
The two Fitzwilliam men shrugged, supposing it must be something to do with Mrs. Darcy’s condition and left their host. Darcy coughed to clear his throat.
"I was just going to bed, Mr. Darcy. I am ever so tired after such a long day of planning and entertaining our guests." Mrs. Bennet spoke nervously as she walked away from her daughter’s husband toward the stairs.
"And will you be enjoying your bedchamber alone?" Fitzwilliam ground his teeth as he disliked being so crass, but he wished for this interview to be over quickly.
Mrs. Bennet squawked with shock that such a baseless accusation be laid at her feet.
But Fitzwilliam held up his hands in mock surrender. "There is no need to deny it to me, Madam, I witnessed my uncle leave your bedchamber this morning in the same attire he wore last evening. I am only requesting that you consider your actions after I explain to you the kind of man my uncle is."
"There is no need to warn me, Mr. Darcy. As your elder, I'm quite aware the gentleman your uncle is and how miserable his life has been since his family saw fit to send him away to the far shores of India. For shame to send a man away from all he holds dear."
"And did he explain we sent him away because we lacked positions to foster the bastards from his affairs with the staff?" Mr. Darcy again startled his wife's mother as he kept his tone of voice low so that it would not echo in the grand foyer.
Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy spied a footman over by the stairs begin to stir, and he suddenly regretted having such an inappropriate interview in a public space. "Please, Mother Bennet, think of your daughters.” Mr. Darcy reached out for his mother-in-law’s hand and tried to impart his sincerest wish for her to curtail her behavior. “My uncle is a man of no honor. He will not hesitate to use and abuse the ones who love him most if he can see an advantage to it."
Mrs. Bennet shook her head and jerked back her hand. She frowned. "You have insulted my character, sir, and I'm afraid that there is nothing more this old widow needs warning from. I suppose you and my daughter are planning to send him away?"
Mr. Darcy said nothing and Mrs. Bennet took it as an affirmation.
"I see. Well then, do not be surprised if I board that carriage with him. I am no prisoner here, and though my settlement is meager, Uncle Darcy has assured me we shall find favor with his many friends."
Mrs. Bennet stormed off in a huff, leaving her son by marriage alone in the foyer pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
Darcy possessed no wisdom to explain how badly he had bungled what was meant to be a gentle conversation with Elizabeth’s mother. Momentarily, he found compassion for his mistake by blaming his other uncle and cousin of abusing all of his patience in the library. The only meager measure of success he could grant was that he had not revealed to Mrs. Bennet that Mr. Alastair Darcy was the natural father of George Wickham.
It was unlikely the knowledge of little baby Robin could be kept for long from the man who could very easily lay claim to the child. But both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy hoped the longer Robert Bennet grew up in the loving arms his Aunt Jane, the better chance the lad had for a successful life. With any luck, Alastair Darcy would be far too distracted to worry about the grandchild of his own unscrupulous liaisons.
Chapter 11
With each passing milestone, a mixture of excitement and anxiety coursed through Mary Bennet’s veins. A journey from London to Newcastle-upon-Tyne tested the mettle of travelers in the best health, but thankfully her uncle arranged for her to use his own carriage and sent along a man as well for the two ladies. Mary supposed that her brother by marriage, Mr. Darcy, likely assisted in the funding and planning of the operation as he routinely visited his estate in Scotland and knew the best inns and places to change horses.
As one of the least traveled Bennet sisters, Mary delighted in the changes she observed the further they traveled from London. Long gone were the busy, crowded streets or even the cramped hamlets that clung to the perimeter of the great city. The surrounding area appeared even more sparse than her home county of Hertfordshire!
It had been arduous, but by pushing a little bit harder earlier in their journey, Mary and her uncle’s servants managed to arrive in the late afternoon just twelve days from when she had received Richard’s letter. She would have made it in ten had rains not delayed them.
Once her carriage entered the town proper, Mary felt her stomach lurch with fear. Making her decision to elope had been a foregone conclusion when she packed her trunks in London and left her uncle's home. But now that she was mere minutes away from meeting her beloved, she irrationally began to fear that the agreements they made so many months ago were no longer his inclination.
She had not been so stupid as to not notice that he was instead a reluctant groom. First, it had stung his pride that his inheritance was not suitable for them to live on and then he had voiced his reservations of making Mary a wife of the Army, a lifestyle she was so wholly unconnected to or prepared to live. But as the carriage door swung open, it was too late to turn back, and Mary jutted her chin out in a very classic profile.
The arrival of a gentlewoman in her own carriage captured the attention of many on the busy main street of New Castle as she accepted the footman's assistance to step down. The little hamlet, lately army depot, bustled with activity. Groups of soldiers mingled and drilled up and down as far as the eye could see. Some in their fine redcoats, another unit with pale blue, and yet still some recruits marched haphazardly in their farming clothes as likely the newest recruits awaiting their full uniforms. Mary smiled as she caught her maid blushing at so many soldiers in one place, but the young lady quickly followed her mistress directly into the tavern as she had been instructed by her uncle.
Outside had been a bustling symphony of yells and neighs of horses, yet inside was practically a church. Mary allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light as she looked around for the proprietor. When at last she found the man who she assumed to be the owner in the far corner waiting on a table of officers, Mary bravely stepped forward. She gulped down her every wish that she had not traveled so far alone now that she was confronted with a new town and nary a friend in sight.
"Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find Holt House?" Mary interrupted the man, asking for the quarters of Brigadier General Fitzwilliam, as her maid stood timidly behind her.
The two officers at the table looked her up and down as the proprietor did not even bother to look her way before he spoke.
"You're wasting your time girl. The Commodore there don’t want any company. Best set your sights a bit lower." The innkeeper continued to count the coins in his hand before tucking them into his apron as Mary opened her mouth in complete shock. When all of the color drained from her face, one of the officers at the table took pity on the young lady.
"He speaks the truth, but not all of us are so tightly strung as the general. Would you care for some refreshment? My companion and I would more than welcome the company." A dashing lieutenant made his offer, reminding Mary of the affronting manners of the late Lieutenant Wickham. Remembering who her future husband was to be, Mary felt a bolt of brilliance he could be proud of as a stealthy piece of strategy.
"I cannot possibly sit down with two men I am unacquainted with. Pray, what are your names?" Mary asked as she willed her voice not to quiver. As the two officers gave their names, Mary smiled. "I suppose I should tell you mine, I am Miss Mary Bennet from London, affianced to General Fitzwilliam. Now, would the two of you please escort me to his quarters so that we may be reunited? I'm sure he would be most grateful for your assistance."
As Mary announced who she was, it was the proprietor who fumbled his apologies and yelled at a young wisp of a boy from the kitchen to mind the tavern while he personally saw Miss Bennet to the general.
“No, we ought to perform this task,” the previously silent lieutenant announced.
“And walk out on yer bill? Not likely. Sit, drink, and be merry. I’m sure Miss Bennet here will not say a word about your poor manners, will ye lass?” The proprietor looked to the young woman who gave a brief nod.
But once they were outside, there was not very far to go. Someone had already reported to Richard that a strange carriage from London had arrived, and there he was, tall and disciplined from head to toe in his regimentals. Weary from lack of sleep and overwork, he stood with a sparkle in his eyes as he could scarcely believe she was indeed there. His Mary. His brave Mary Bennet.
Without hesitation, Mary rushed to him, and Richard embraced her as tightly as he dared without hurting her. The couple soon pulled apart as they were on the street. Richard flipped a coin to the innkeeper as he opened the carriage door for his lady.
“But, sir, the horses?”
“I’ll see to them in the King’s stables. I’m afraid this is now official business,” Richard said, bringing a smirk to Mary’s lips as she took his hand to step up. But Richard’s mood soured slightly as he offered a hand to the mouse of a maid who had traveled with Mary. He nodded to the manservant as he jumped up next to the driver.
He whispered a prayer of thanksgiving that Mary had not traveled alone and had arrived safely. He would have preferred an unchaperoned carriage for the two blocks to the house where he was quartered, but he wouldn’t make the maid walk the two blocks alone with so many single men about!
Once he gave the direction to the driver, Richard clambered in and felt grateful the maid at least had the sense to take the bench across from her charge. Nestling close to his lady, Richard could hardly contain his excitement.
“You came!”
Mary pursed her lips. “Of course I came. Operation Pemberley. You said so in your letter.”
“Yes, yes,” he dared to grasp her gloved hand, pull it up to his lips, and slightly tug the fabric back to gently kiss the skin just above her wrist, “but I worried your sentiments had changed.”
“That’s funny,” she giggled, as Richard’s kiss sent the most exquisite sensations of warmth through her body, “I worried the same about you.”
“Me, never!”
“Me, either!”
The poor maid looked down trying desperately to merely blend in with the carriage upholstery, as the happy couple laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.
By the time they arrived at the host family’s home, Mary had learned that it would be a few days before Richard could take a short leave period to the North, though the papers were to officially see about procuring another shipment of horses from a breeder in Scotland.
Mary didn’t care that truly their elopement would be official business of His Majesty’s Finest. All of her worries had disappeared the moment she was in Richard’s presence. She felt that no matter what this war forced them to face, she was confident in the knowledge they would meet it together.
A few of the farthest guests for the ball arrived the day before the grand festivity. With Mrs. Darcy, her mother, and their two younger sisters visiting tenant families, Mr. Darcy took a sliver of available time to address a matter he had long neglected: his uncle, Alistair.
No sooner had he sent a footman to summon his uncle than Mrs. Reynolds knocked on his door. Assuming it to be a matter to do with the ball, and his wife gone, Mr. Darcy bade her enter and hoped the issue did not involve a question of decor.
“Pardon me, sir, but I’m afraid my conscience has bid to me to once again bring the spring hiring fair to your attention,” Mrs. Reynolds said boldly as she glanced at the door to the master’s study. Mr. Darcy followed her gaze, noticing she had left the door open. Standing uncomfortably just outside the door jamb, Mr. Cowles, the butler, attemp
ted to hide from view. “Well, come in, Cowles. Mr. Darcy must hear from us both!”
Exasperated, Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and beckoned the new servant into his study. The man who came highly recommended by Mr. Holmes at Matlock scurried in to stand next to, but slightly behind, Mrs. Reynolds.
“Are the staff not abiding by your commands, Mr. Cowles?” Mr. Darcy asked a worry he had held with hiring from outside of the ranks. But they had lost two of their most senior footmen the previous year, one to illness and the other to a move to London, that neither he nor Mrs. Darcy had felt comfortable raising someone’s star from within.
“No, sir. I mean to say, yes, sir. You have a most obedient and capable staff here at Pemberley.” The butler offered until Mrs. Reynolds made an audible sigh. “We just do not have enough of them, I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Reynolds smiled, but Mr. Darcy frowned, looking out the window.
“I do wonder that the two of you chose to wait until Mrs. Darcy was gone from the home to bring this issue to me. Have you spoken to your Mistress?”
Mrs. Reynolds took a step forward and nodded. “Aye, sir, and she told me there was no room in the ledger for new hires. But we’ve lost two scullery maids, three footmen, an undergardener, and five housemaids. I’ve managed to keep two footmen and three of the housemaids until after the ball. But after Easter, I’m afraid they will have served out their notice.”
Mr. Darcy wiped his face with the palm of his hand in a grim expression. Many thoughts competed at once in his mind, but he would not show an ounce of disloyalty to his wife in front of the staff. Still, her reasoning baffled him.
“That is a very high turnover, is there a problem with the leadership below stairs?” Mr. Darcy wished to know the root problem before he brought the matter to his wife.
Swiftly, Mr. Cowles shook his head while Mrs. Reynolds remained still.