Page 25 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
She had said, “Mr Darcy is not to be laughed at! That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.”
“Miss Bingley has given me more credit than can be,” he had replied gravely. “The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”
“Certainly, there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”
“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
“Such as vanity and pride.”
“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”
She had to think about that a moment. She had, at the time, thought it the greatest absurdity, but could he be correct? Could it be that she didnothave her own pride under good regulation, and was acting in a self-defeating manner? Had it been out of control even back in Netherfield? It was certainly possible. She knew full well her mother could get her way far easier if she swallowed her pride and grovelled a bit for her father, which MrsBennet was not averse to. Should Elizabeth reverse her course, and try to take advantage of her relations?
She thought about it for quite some time and eventually decided there had to be a hierarchy of emotions. Some were obviously more noble than others. Greed and gluttony would clearly come out lower than charity or love, for a simple example. From that standpoint, it would seem respect had to beat out pride, vanity, and even greed. Self-respect was as important as respect for others, and therefore, if she wanted to live a life of dignity, she had to have some self-respect. It was simple, really—or more likely, just rationalisation.
With that in mind, she eventually decided she may not have done the most practical thing with the relatives, but she could certainly hold her head up and say she had done thecorrectthing. If she started allowing the fiction thatshehad compromised her husband to survive, she would be complicit in her own downfall.
After some thought, she decided her conclusions must suffice, because she would rather gouge her own eyes out than apologise to Darcy’s horrid relatives. That would allow them to win without a fight, and she just could not bring herself to do it. She would either be accepted by her husband’s family as she was, without false modesty, or not at all. Suicidal or not, it was the only way she could look at herself in the mirror without cringing a few years hence. If that cost her some discomfort among her husband’s family, so be it. If it caused her husband some discomfort, he deserved it.
The sun was setting by the time she returned. She had built the habit over several months of being unpredictable, so it was rare for anyone but Molly or Noah to know exactly (or even approximately) where she was. Even they were sometimes toostifling for the mistress, so she might hint that she was going riding when she planned no such thing. They were, of course, not fooled, since neither was stupid, but they played along. It was Noah’s half-day anyway, and Molly had been performing her actual job when the Matlocks appeared, going to Kympton with a footman to get supplies for Mrs Reynolds.
When she returned Max to the kennel, she walked by the stables and saw the Matlock coach still present, so concluded they must have begged (or more likely ordered) Mrs Reynolds to put them up. Elizabeth wondered how long they would stay, but so long as she did not have to entertain them, she really did not care very much. She occupied such a tiny sliver of Pemberley, she could coexist, not only in the same house but the same floor, for weeks without bumping into them.
She easily slipped into the house and up to her room, to find Molly trying to read The Romance of the Forest by Ann Radcliffe, which Elizabeth had been thoroughly surprised to find on Darcy’s bookshelves. She expected many things, but a reasonably complete collection of recent gothic novels was not among them. The writing was still slightly beyond Molly’s ability, five months after she read her first word, but Elizabeth told her to push herself and she was certainly game. Elizabeth reckoned the woman could read it a dozen times if that was what it took. It was not as if she herself had only read it once.
With a smile, she said, “Ah, Molly, how is young Adeline doing? Has she—”
Molly slapped the table. “Do not finish that sentence. I do not want any clues.”
Elizabeth laughed along with her maid. Molly was practically tied to her chair, and her childlike wonder at the glories of the written word was a joy to behold. She was older and wiser than a six-year-old, so she delighted in different sorts of stories, but the entire experience was the best thing about Pemberley.Both Molly’s and Noah’s vocabularies were improving with the exercise to the point where they would be qualified for just about any position before very long.
Instead of spoiling Molly’s book, she decided to gather some intelligence.
“The thought would never occur to me. How are things below stairs?”
Molly frowned and hesitated.
“The unvarnished truth, if you please. I know it goes against the grain, but my conversation with the Matlocks did not go well. I would like to know what is being done and said.”
Molly grumbled. “So, it is true then? You will not entertain them?”
“No, I will not. My husband’s instructions on that score were clear enough.”
Molly looked at her. She was a bit cheeky for a servant, more than a bit to tell the truth, but that was exactly as her mistress wanted. “Are you certain that is the right way to handle them?”
“Not in the least, but if I do not put my foot down right here and now, this family will never respect me. Disrespect is a poison that, once allowed to get a foothold, is exceedingly difficult to stop. It is probably not the best from a practical standpoint, but it is the only course of action I can bring myself to pursue.”
Molly sighed, not certain Elizabeth was acting wisely, but then she reflected that the gentry might as well be a different and exotic species for all she could understand their motivations, so she would keep her advice to herself.
“The Matlocks are not making any friends below stairs, but I doubt they care any more about that than not making friends in the stables. They do not notice us like you do.”
Elizabeth smiled, thinking things were mostly as she expected.
“There has not been a formal dinner in a year. Mrs Reynolds and cook obviously know what to do, but Lady Matlock seems to feel she can order the house about to her requirements.”
“How is that going?”
Molly grinned. “Mrs Reynolds said the house had a mistress, and one was sufficient.”
