Page 44 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
“She arrived on the twenty-sixth of December, wearing black. She had a day dress she dyed black at an inn. We had a rather frank discussion about the terms you laid down on her, and she implied, but never admitted outright, that the mourning was a sham, designed to reduce the humiliation of her position.”
Darcy leaned his head forward and held it, with his elbows on his knees. He was not even an hour into his wife’s term as mistress, and things already sounded bleaker than bleak.
“Did she say whom she was mourning?”
“No sir. She said to spread it about that her wedding preceded her knowledge of the affair, so there was nothing untoward about her nuptials, and that she was a very private person anyway. She would not make or receive calls while in mourning.”
Darcy laughed grimly. “Private person indeed!I can assure you that she is averysocial person, but the disguise is pure genius. I cannot think of a better way she could have proceeded.”
“I suspected as much but followed her instruction.”
“Where did she get mourning clothes? Lambton?”
Mrs Reynolds looked like she could not decide whether to be embarrassed or angry. “No sir. She asked a laundress to dye a second day dress, and that was all she wore for the entire six months: two old, dyed, muslin day dresses that preceded her nuptials.”
Darcy ground his teeth in frustration, thinking every revelation just made things worse. It was all his own fault, buthe had somehow hoped for a softer landing from his great fall. He suspected that, before all was said and done, he would have to get the axe Mrs Reynolds mentioned and take it to his pride, because said emotion may very well have cost him his chance for happiness.
Mrs Reynolds continued, somewhat nervously. “She had to pay for her own clothing with, forgive me for saying it, a pittance of an allowance. What would the neighbourhood say if Mrs Darcy bought dresses more fitting for a maid or the daughter of a middling squire than the mistress of Pemberley?”
Darcy sighed. “I can see that, Mrs Reynolds. Were they at least reasonable quality?”
“Yes sir, they were at least that. She liked to traipse around the woods for hours at a time with her maid, Molly—the one that she had known previously, who left with her. They did all the repairs themselves, as they never asked the other maids to do anything except the laundry. Her petticoats and stockings were frequently muddy, but other than that, the load on the staff was embarrassingly minimal.”
Darcy thought he could detect the beginnings of a stubborn streak in his wife, or to be frank, the unequivocal proof of one—which actually made him appreciate her more. She handled the awkward situation better than he had. Of course, besting his handling was nothing to boast of.
“What happened then?”
Jennings continued the story. “She seemed brittle and angry for a time. Bates found her on New Year’s Day, having imbibed a bit too much of the brandy in the library; but other than that, she learned to cope. She asked Mrs Reynolds and me to teach her about the estate, so we did our best. She learned the names of all the staff but never issued any orders, beyond moving some furniture and occasional refreshments.”
“How did she do with the instruction?” Darcy asked in genuine curiosity.
“I do not know about Mrs Reynolds, but I do not believe I taught her a single thing.”
Reynolds concurred, but Darcy looked confused, so Jennings clarified. “I do not mean she was incapable of learning. It is just that I did not find anything she did not already know. She was perfectly capable of acting as mistress the day she appeared.”
“I showed her the household books and discovered she already knew everything I could teach her. That took a single day. All the other duties of a mistress, she at least knew, even though she did not exercise any of her authority. Her questions about the tenants were detailed and insightful, and she did make some suggestions for things I might think of doing.”
Darcy restlessly got up from the chair, went over to a side table, and poured himself a brandy, thinking that Mrs Darcy’s New Year’s idea was sounding more appealing by the minute.
“Then what?”
“You had not assigned her a lady’s maid, so she purloined the lowest-ranking servant in the house, one Molly Hatcher, because she already knew her from somewhere, which was decidedly odd. Molly was from Lambton, born and bred, but Mrs Darcy asked for her by name the very first day.”
“Interesting.”
“It seemed a small thing to allow her Molly’s exclusive use, and since she abandoned the idea of formal dining, I did not really need another scullery maid. I only hired her because you were getting married.”
Darcy drank his brandy down in one gulp and poured another, chuckling over the fact that he had not quite escaped France yet.
“That was well done, Mrs Reynolds. I am glad you did it. What did the two of them get up to?”
“They explored just about every inch of the park that you can reach on foot. They walked into Lambton and back several times a week. She spent a great deal of time in the bookshop. Mr Bartlet did not mind, and the last month or so, she seemed to meet several of the local gentlemen there.”
Darcy grunted, not at all certain he liked that idea, but since he had known Mr Bartlet since he had been breeched and spent considerable time in the shop himself, he knew he need not worry about anything untoward. Her reputation might be suspect over meetings during her supposed mourning; but it sounded like the Darcy reputation was in tatters anyway, and they would survive it, just as Darcys had survived scandals before, for six hundred years.
“That is good. Bartlet would not let anything bad happen, and I suppose she was starved for companionship.”
“I suppose so, but if you want to know what she was thinking, he is probably your best bet.”
