Page 45 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
“Back to the beginning. She got her maid, and—”
“Believe it or not, she was teaching Molly to read. She was just a young girl from Lambton, certainly not a lady’s maid, but I believe Mrs Darcy wanted to ensure she had an ally when you returned. She did not want you to have any excuse to force another maid on her—or at least, that was my assumption.”
Darcy hung his head, not able to contradict the idea.
“She also offered to teach other servants, and a few, including Noah, the footman that went away with her, joined in. I believe he had an interest in Molly, but that is pure speculation,” Mrs Reynolds added.
“You say shewalkedinto Lambton? That is five miles, a good hour and a half in good weather, and more in winter—each way. You are saying she did thatregularly?”
“Yes sir. She did not call for the carriage even once, but in mid-March she started taking lessons from Longman, and rodefor several hours regularly. I surmised that became the best part of her day. She also managed to get pianoforte lessons without paying overly much. After she started riding, she rode to Lambton more often than not, with Longman or a groom as escort.”
Darcy sighed. “I left instructions not to use the coach more than twice a week. I suppose she took that very literally.”
Mrs Reynolds was wringing her hands, so Darcy said, “Out with it, Alice. You have known me since I was four years old. If you have something to say, pray say it. We are all friends here.”
Saying the words in plain English, Darcy realised that there was some truth in them that he had never quite recognised before. His parents had drilled into him the need to maintain a sort of barrier between the servants and the gentry, and he had taken them at their word most of his life. He, of course, made sure everyone in his employ was well paid, well taken care of, pensioned well at the end of their tenure, looked after in sickness and health, and everything else that made anefficientestate—but he always held himself aloof—separate. He wondered if it was a mistake making the barrier permeable, but at that moment, he could not care less. He just wanted to find his wife, and he would camp out in the servants’ attics if he thought it would help.
Mrs Reynolds, somewhat startled that the master had used her given name for the first time in some years, said, “Sir, she asked for a clean copy of your instructions for her own records. She said something at the end of the ill-fated visit from the Matlocks.”
Darcy’s head snapped up in alarm. “Visit from the Matlocks?”
“Yes sir. They visited on May Day. They did not make a very good impression on Mrs Darcy, nor did she make a good impression on them—though—”
Her pausing and tiptoeing around the truth was frustrating Darcy, but he knew it was his fault, so he gently just looked at her with permission to speak freely.
“They made up their minds before they walked in the door. They had her convicted, sentenced, and hanged, before she ever came to trial. She never had a chance.”
Darcy glanced at the brandy sitting on the table and exerted all the iron-willed discipline he possessed to leave it. “What happened?”
“Your wife spoke to them for perhaps a quarter-hour and refused to offer them hospitality.”
Darcy gasped, and even started out of his chair, but it only lasted a second before he slumped down. “I did leave explicit instructions that she was not to entertain.”
“Yes sir. She told them if they needed a room to beg me for it, and then—”
“Go on,” Darcy prompted gently.
“She just disappeared until they left. They stayed four days, thinking they would break her down eventually, but she did not speak to them again until they were under the portico, ready to board. I believe Bates showed her the hidden staircases, so she frequently came and went with nobody the wiser. She could have ignored them easily.”
Darcy just shook his head, feeling an incipient headache coming on. “Bates would do that, and I would not blame him. Have you any idea what she did in the interim?”
Quite to his shock, Knight, who had been keeping quiet, probably worried about his job, laughed.
Darcy looked at him, and the steward chuckled. “Longman taught her to ride Omega.”
“Omega!” Darcy exclaimed. He remembered the horse, which was at least three hands too large for his wife, and disagreeable to boot, though he still brought in good stud fees,because he was the most beautiful animal he owned, then continued in shock. “Omega is far too big for her.”
Knight chuckled. “On that score, sir, you are entirely mistaken! I suspect Longman put her up to it, but she took to that horse like a duck to water. When the Matlocks left, she let them get to that wide stretch before Lambton, and rode by them, running like the wind. I heard about it from a drover who witnessed it. He said she looked like a Valkyrie.”
Darcy vacillated between feeling scandalised and feeling proud of his wife, but the scandal portion was soon snuffed out by a feeling of hope. He was absolutely, certainly, definitely in her brown books, and unlikely to emerge soon, but to have a wife who would pull that kind of stunt just because she could—that would be something!
Mrs Reynolds said, “You know I am not in the habit of overhearing, but I believe the mistress set herself up to say something that nobody but your aunt, uncle, and myself could hear.”
“What did she say?”
Mrs Reynolds thought carefully. “It was quite stark. I can repeat it close to word for word. She said, ‘My lord, my lady, pray, let me be clear. As I surmised and you verified, I am in some danger of being cast aside in some thoroughly unpleasant way. There is very little I can do to change the outcome, but what I can do, Iwill. My husband, if he ever returns, may find me unhandsome, he may find me impertinent, he may find me a bluestocking, he may find me insufficiently accomplished—any or all of these he may find. What he willnotfind me isdisobedient. If he wants to put me aside, it will be on his own head, not mine. I will followallhis instructionsto the letter, and I will not allowanyoneto disrupt that.’”
The words felt like a hammer blow, and he really wondered if that had been her purpose. If her aim had been to disgrace himamong his family, and trigger nearly crippling feelings of shame and guilt, she had succeeded admirably.
