Page 98 of Compromise & Consequence
“Damn, you are correct. I wonder if I should apply for a special license.”
“Do not underestimate Jane. She knows what she wants and will not be swayed by your fickle brother. Trust her, Richard. Learn from my mistakes.”
With that, Darcy disembarked from the carriage and swung the door closed, stepping back as the carriage lurched forward down the lane. He then opened the hidden gate on the back of his property and made his way to the servant’s entrance of the house, which caused him to pass by the kitchen. A familiar laugh had him pause, and he came to a complete stop at the sight of Elizabeth standing at the work table, rolling out some dough with a splotch of flour on her cheek.
She looked up and smiled.
“You are just in time. These cookies will be ready for tea in about half an hour.”
***
Unable to sit still while William attended to matters at his uncle’s house, with knowledge of their plans to confront Lady Catherine and whisk her off to Derbyshire, Elizabeth paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in the library. Normally, shewould walk off her frustration outside, but she couldn’t take the risk the house was being watched and the hired thugs might snatch her off the street before their plan was enacted. So, in frustration, she wore down the thread of the plush Aubusson carpet.
She stopped a few feet from the window, a little to the left of the drapes, and tried to peer across the street, hoping she could see if anyone was watching the house. All her efforts were for naught. Only carriages and tradespeople going about their business.
“This is ridiculous,” she finally said to nothing but air. “I will go mad!”
She turned on her heel and made her way to the kitchen. At Longbourn, when she was unable to curb her nervous energy by walking, she would go to the kitchen and help Mrs. Pruitt with the baking. Nothing made her feel better than to knead the dough for a delicious loaf of bread or work some batter for sweet cookies. Upon entry into the inner sanctum of Mr. Darcy’s very efficient cook, everyone looked at her in askance.
“Please, bear me no mind,” she urged and approached Mrs. Pennyroyal. “I know the lady of the house does not come into the kitchen looking for employment or something to do with her hands, but I am beyond distraction, and growing up, helping in the kitchen was my way of taking my mind off of things.”
Mrs. Pennyroyal continued to stare without saying a word.
“I will not get in your way, I do know my way around a mixing bowl,” she continued to assure the shocked woman. Seeing that she would get no response, she heaved a sigh and turned to leave the room.
“There be flour on the far shelf an’ measurin’ cups below. I’ll need about four cups for dem cookies ya like ta eat wit’ yer tea.Ye ken start wit’ dat.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pennyroyal.”
She found the mixing bowl, measuring cups, and flour and before she knew it, she was rolling out dough and cutting cookie shapes, joking, and laughing with the ladies in the kitchen, telling them stories of her cousins and life at Longbourn. It was then her husband returned from Matlock House. She looked up and smiled, holding back laughter at his surprised expression.
“You are just in time. These cookies will be ready for tea in about half an hour.”
One of the kitchen maids tapped her arm and with a nod of her head indicated she would take over and that she should go with her husband – their employer. Elizabeth handed over the cookie cutter and moved to the sink where a bowl of water sat. She quickly washed her hands and accepted a clean cloth another maid handed her to dry her hands. With a pat to her bun, to ensure no curls had escaped, she moved forward and slid her arm around William’s, looking up at him to say, “Would you kindly escort me to the drawingroom?”
“I would, but you forgot something.”
At first, she was alarmed at his formal tone and worried the women in the kitchen would get in trouble over her impromptu baking session. Becoming apprehensive over his continued silence, she gave a start when he pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped her cheek, before kissing her on the forehead.
“We cannot have you frighten Burke and Mrs. Whittaker with flour on your face. We must keep this little secret amongst ourselves.”
She pressed a little closer to his body and grinned when the cook harrumphed behind them.
“The likes of us will no’ tell tales, Mr. Darcy. Yer wife’s a right pip and she’s welcome in my kitchen any time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pennyroyal. Please have someone bring tea when it is ready to the yellow drawingroom.”
They walked in amicable silence toward what was becoming one of her favorite rooms. Most likely because it was smaller and more intimate. She was bursting with curiosity over what transpired at Matlock House but knew she had to wait until they were alone. They sat together on one of the smaller settees, a fact which pleased her to no end, and she began to pepper him with questions. He raised his hands in mock surrender after a few minutes.
“Elizabeth! Take a breath and let me answer at least one of your questions before you launch another one.”
“I am sorry, William. I hate not being in the mix of things and my imagination, if you are not already aware, is quite active. I had several scenarios running about in a continual loop. None of them pleasant, I assure you.”
“There is not much to say. Lady de Bourgh,” – he ignored his wife’s raised brow at the name he now ascribed to his aunt – “was subdued with little effort and she is now on her way to Wyndhaven Castle where uncle has employed an army of servants to ensure hers and our safety.”
Nothing would induce him to tell his wife the invectives his despicable aunt had spewed out when she was forcibly confined and drugged.
“I would assume, now that your aunt has been successfully muzzled, we do not need to hide our presence in London and move forward with the second act of this play?”
