by Leenie Brown
“The girls, such as Miss Clara, are taught cooking, cleaning, tending to and instructing young ones, as well as stitching and the like,” Mrs. Verity continued her explanation to Elizabeth. “Clara has a love for fashion and can ply a needle and thread with such skill.”
“Mr. Gardiner will surely know of a mantua-maker in need of an assistant,” Mrs. Gardiner assured Mrs. Verity. “I see that Miss Clara is also skilled at making bonnets,” Mrs. Gardiner said as she continued looking over the sheet of paper she held. “Would she be inclined to work with a milliner?”
“She would indeed. Again, lodging is available here if required, but if a place can be found for her as well as Riley that provides living arrangements, then I can take in two new children.”
Mrs. Gardiner nodded her head. “We will see what we can do.”
“You always do,” Mrs. Verity said with a smile. “Now, your niece has not been here before. Would you care for a tour, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth looked hopefully at her aunt.
Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “I dare say I shall not hear the end of her disappointment if we do not have a tour. Elizabeth is an industrious sort of young lady who might need a charity in which to be involved after she is married.
“And is marriage in the near future?” Mrs. Verity asked as she led them from the room.
“No,” Elizabeth answered as her aunt replied “possibly.”
Mrs. Verity laughed. “The hopeful aunt, but I can see why she is hopeful. You are a lovely young woman.”
Elizabeth blushed and thanked Mrs. Verity for her compliment.
“Is there a particular gentleman?” The headmistress of the orphan house asked Mrs. Gardiner.
“I cannot say,” Mrs. Gardiner replied while allowing her eyebrows to flick in a manner that told Mrs. Verity that there was indeed a particular gentleman.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Aunt,” she pleaded.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Verity, “we shall pursue that topic no further. This room on your left is where the children take all their meals. After they reach a certain age, they are required to take their turns in serving — not just because they may someday be employed in a fine home, but because there is value in learning to serve others.”
The room was furnished just as a dining room in a wealthy estate might be furnished.
“It is beautiful,” Elizabeth murmured.
“I give them the best,” Mrs. Verity said. “They must learn to work in such places as this, so they must be familiar with both sides of the room so to speak. Those who eat and those who wait.” She led them down the hall and up a set of back stairs. “The children are required to use these stairs at all times unless descending for lessons. I will show you the classroom last.” She led them through the halls, showing them this room and that and introducing each child she met to the ladies.
Elizabeth smiled and curtseyed in response to each polite greeting she received. It was evident that Mrs. Verity and her staff had taught the children very well, and from their clear complexions and bright eyes, they were all well-fed and happy.
After touring the upper levels, Mrs. Verity took them down to the storehouses and kitchen before returning to the floor on which they had begun their tour.
“There were two drawing rooms and a library when I first purchased the house,” Mrs. Verity explained as she stood outside a closed door. “We have kept one drawing room for receiving guests, and the other two rooms have been converted into schoolrooms. This is the room for receiving guests,” she said as she pushed the door open.
The room was empty save for a young woman sitting near the window stitching.
Elizabeth stopped and stared at the woman. She looked very much like the maid who had delivered the tea to the drawing room at Darcy House. “Does she work here?” she whispered to Mrs. Verity.
“No,” Mrs. Verity paused. “Not all of our children are orphans. Some, such as Nellie’s son, are foundlings.”
“Nellie?” Elizabeth whispered. It was Mr. Darcy’s maid.
Mrs. Verity nodded. “She keeps her son here so that she can continue to work. A maid cannot care for a child and fulfill her duties.”
“She has no husband?”
“No, she has never had a husband,” Mrs. Verity said softly. “Maids can fall prey to the gentlemen of a house.”
Elizabeth’s stomach felt as if it had dropped to her toes. “And that is what happened to Nellie?”
“Yes.”
The one word answer made Elizabeth blink at sudden tears. How could she even consider a man who would take advantage of one of his maids in such a way?
“How sad,” she muttered, both because it was a dismal realization about the man she admired and because it was sad that a maid should be treated so.
“Indeed, it is. However, Nellie’s employer allows her to visit regularly and be involved in her son’s life. That is much more than most foundlings are ever given. Her son will be along to see her soon.” She looked at the pocket watch which hung with several other baubles and keys on a chain around her waist. “Ten more minutes and reading time will be over, and Robert will be free to visit with his mother.”
Elizabeth followed Mrs. Verity to the next door.
“As I mentioned before, the remaining rooms were made over into classrooms — one for the older children and one for the younger ones. The two rooms are connected by a door, and from time to time, the younger and older children learn together. She cracked the door open slowly, and whispered, “such as now. It is good for all ages to hear literature read aloud even if they cannot decipher the words themselves.” She held a finger to her lips and did not open the door any further.
“…And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things….”[1]
The rich, familiar baritone of the reader wafted into the hall, wrapping itself around Elizabeth’s heart with a deep sadness that ran exactly opposite of the sentiments of the poet. She fought to maintain control of her emotions.
Mrs. Verity motioned her forward and pushed the door open just a bit further.
Elizabeth peered into the room, a dozen children of various ages sat attentively listening. Some sat on the floor, others in chairs, and one small boy with blonde curls snuggled into Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. Elizabeth looked from that young boy to Mrs. Verity.
“That is Nellie’s son, Robert,” she whispered.
Her words snatched the air from Elizabeth’s lungs. The room felt warm and her legs unstable. “I need a bit of air,” she said, and quickly fled the sight of the man, whom she loved, holding his maid’s son.
* * *
from Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798, by William Wordsworth ↵
Chapter 8
Elizabeth hurried through the hall and out the front door of the house. She stood on the step and pulled in several deep breaths of crisp December air. The image of Mr. Darcy with that child nestled in his lap pulled at her heart in two very different directions. Part of her could not help but be charmed by the prospect of a man as tall and handsome as Mr. Darcy snuggling a wee one, but when she thought of how that child had come into this world, her stomach roiled. She had long abhorred the practice of some men to take mistresses or satisfy their desires without the commitment of marriage.
“Pardon me, miss.”
A boy, who looked to be about eleven, stood next to her with a broom in his hand.
“Forgive me,” Elizabeth said, stepping to the side so that he could continue his work.
> “That part of the step is clean if you wish to sit down.” The boy kept peeking at her as he worked.
“Thank you. I find sitting would be most welcome.”
“Wait, miss,” the boy said before Elizabeth could do more than step down a step and prepare to take a seat. “The step is as clean as I can get it, but I should hate to see you soil your dress.” He shrugged out of his coat and lay it on the step with the interior facing upward. “Yellow was my mother’s favorite color,” he said as he returned to his broom.
Elizabeth pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. It would have been far smarter to have stopped during her flight to gather her pelisse. “You remember your mother?” she asked the boy.
He nodded. “I was six when she died. Papa passed the year before.”
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth murmured. She could not imagine losing both her parents now, let alone at such a tender age.
The boy shrugged. “Rachel, she’s my sister, and I were fortunate, I guess. My papa left mother enough money to care for us, and when she got sick, she brought us here. I have wanted for very little.”
Save for the love of a parent, Elizabeth thought. “You have lived here for some time then?”
He nodded. “Nearly six years.” He gave the corner in which he stood one last good sweep. “There,” he declared in a satisfied tone.
The door behind Elizabeth opened.
“Is our guest well, Riley,” Mr. Smith, the butler, asked as he stepped out.
“Are you well, miss?”
“You have seen to my comfort very well,” Elizabeth assured him. “I shall not inconvenience you much longer. I only wished for a bit of air.”
“You will continue to see to Miss Elizabeth?” Receiving a promise from Riley, Mr. Smith handed Elizabeth’s pelisse to the lad and then closed the door.
“How thoughtful,” Elizabeth said, accepting her coat with a smile. “And, now you may have your jacket back as well. I would hate to be the cause of you catching a chill.” She rose and put on her coat. Then, she folded her shawl and placed it on the step. “You may sit with me if it will not get you in trouble,” she said as Riley appeared to be taking up a position near the door to watch her.
The boy considered it for a moment and then, just as Elizabeth thought he might refuse, he joined her.
“You are not with the others listening to the reading,” she said as Riley made himself comfortable. It might be easier to avoid her thoughts if she were to begin a conversation with someone.
“No, miss. I have my duties to see to, and I am not going to be here much longer, so I must learn here instead of in the classroom.” He smiled at her. “I will not lie and say I would not rather be listening to Mr. Darcy read than sweeping a step.”
“You enjoy reading?” she asked.
“Very much.” His head bobbed up and down vigorously to emphasize his point. “Almost as much as I like adding numbers.” A grin split his face. “The others think I am a bit daft for liking sums so much.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said as recognition dawned on her. “You are Master Riley.”
“Yes, miss.”
“My aunt and Mrs. Verity were speaking of you. I believe my uncle is finding you a place with Mr. Crenshaw.”
“I am anxious to begin.”
“Mr. Crenshaw is a very pleasant man, and his wife makes the best plum pudding.”
“He is kind?”
“Very,” Elizabeth assured the lad beside her. He might look eager to begin his life, but she could imagine there was at least a small amount, if not a large portion, of trepidation hidden behind his confident smile. Leaving what one knew was never an easy task. Trusting another to care for them and be a good, kind, and giving soul was equally as challenging. Her lips curled up slightly. That was how she felt standing on the precipice of change. She would have to place her trust in another or remain an old maid, listening to her mother’s moaning about how unfortunate it was to have a daughter who had never married.
The boy glanced at the door behind him. “I hope he is as good as Mr. Darcy,” he said wistfully. “Mr. Darcy is the best gentleman I have ever met,” he added. “Do you know him?”
Elizabeth nodded. Her plan to avoid thinking about that gentleman seemed to be crumbling about her and was about to be swept away completely by the young man next to her.
“I had only been here for a year when I met him. I had met many gentlemen and ladies. They come to see Mrs. Verity and to look at us, you know,” he said in explanation. “Sometimes they take one of us to their homes to work. But Mr. Darcy was the first gentleman I had seen bring a maid to us.”
Elizabeth propped her elbows on her knees and rested her head on her hands with her face turned toward Riley. “Nellie?” she asked.
The boy’s face lit up at the name. “Nellie,” he said as he nodded his head. “She let me borrow her handkerchief to dry my tears and never told anyone.”
“That is very kind.”
“Oh, she is,” Riley agreed. “She never once teased me for missing my mother, and she took care of my sister so well. Rachel was only two then and in the nursery, where Nellie worked until she couldn’t.”
“She couldn’t?” Elizabeth repeated in confusion.
The boy next to her nodded his head solemnly. “I should not tell tales, but she was with child when Mr. Darcy brought her to us.”
Elizabeth’s stomach once again began to feel uneasy.
“She had never been in the city before.”
“She did not work for Mr. Darcy?”
“No, she worked for him, but not here. At his estate.” The boys face grew dark. “Some friend of Mr. Darcy had promised to marry Nellie, but he did not. He ran away as soon as he knew she was with child.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. “A friend of Mr. Darcy’s is Robert’s father?”
The boy shook his head. “He is no longer a friend of Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy would not tolerate such a rogue.”
Elizabeth’s lips curled up at the adamant disgust in the boy’s tone.
“Nellie was fearful, of course, that she would get turned out from her position, but Mr. Darcy would not hear of it. He brought her here until Robert was born, then, when she was well, she was able to return to work but not at his estate. She was to stay in town so that she could visit Robert. Sometimes she comes on her own, and sometimes Mr. Darcy brings her.”
Elizabeth sat silently next to the boy for several minutes. Although her stomach no longer twisted, her heart ached. How wrong she had been once again about Mr. Darcy!
“Robert was sitting in Mr. Darcy’s lap while he was reading, ” she said when the silence began to feel uncomfortable.
Riley nodded. “He always does.”
Again, the pair lapsed into silence.
“Mr. Darcy is a good man,” Elizabeth allowed that portion of her thoughts to be uttered. Good, however, seemed to be too small a word to describe a man who would see to the welfare of his maid and her child as Mr. Darcy was doing. Nor was it an adequate word to describe a brother who cared so well for a sister who had nearly been ruined.
She blinked. Those blonde curls! A chill crept up her back and spread down her arms. Nellie’s hair was brown, but there was someone who claimed to be a former friend of Mr. Darcy who had blonde hair that curled around his ears and at the nape of his neck. Oh! She had once again been made to think poorly of Mr. Darcy because of Mr. Wickham! She blew out a breath.
“Are you well, miss?”
Elizabeth nodded and then shrugged. “Master Riley, what would you do if you had misjudged a person most severely and had both spoken and thought poorly of this person?”
“Is this person a friend?”
Again, Elizabeth nodded.
The young boys face screwed up as he thought. “Mrs. Verity would say to apologize.”
Elizabeth expelled one more breath and rose from the step. “Then, I must apologize,” she said with forced determination. Biting her lip, she looked toward the
door to the house beyond which lay the person to whom she needed to address her apology. “A good man would forgive me, right?” she asked her new young friend.
Riley smiled and nodded. “If he is as good as Mr. Darcy he will.”
“I pray you are right,” Elizabeth replied as she gathered her shawl from the step. “Thank you, Master Riley. I have every belief that you shall one day be as good as Mr. Darcy.” The boy stood a little straighter at her words and nodded his head in acceptance of the compliment before moving to open the door for her.
Elizabeth stepped into the foyer and handed her pelisse to Riley who stood behind her, waiting to take it from her.
“Did you get enough air?” Mrs. Verity asked as she approached Elizabeth. “I meant to see if you were well, but Mr. Smith assured me that Riley was seeing to your needs.”
“He did a very good job,” Elizabeth replied with a smile for both Mrs. Verity and Riley. “He was most helpful.”
“Your aunt and I were about to have tea in my study,” Mrs. Verity said. “Would you care to join us?”
Before Elizabeth could answer, the drawing room door opened, and Mr. Darcy stepped into the hall.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted. “Mrs. Verity said you were here.”
“And as you can see, I am. I was speaking with Master Riley outside.” Elizabeth was glad she could blame the redness of her cheeks on the cool air so that her embarrassment could be hidden for a few moments.
“Master Riley is a good lad.” Mr. Darcy smiled at the boy who was scooting past them toward the back stairs. Immediately, the boy stopped his progress and with a bow, thanked Mr. Darcy for his kind words.
Elizabeth watched him continue on his way. “He adores you,” she whispered.
“They all adore Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Verity added. “He is a favourite. Now, shall I pour for two or four?”
Elizabeth drew a breath. “Might I be allowed to speak with Mr. Darcy?”
Mrs. Verity’s brows rose, and she shared a knowing look with Mrs. Gardiner. “Is Nellie still in the drawing room with Robert?” she asked Darcy.