Page 82 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
“Why two here?” I asked. Perhaps she enjoyed duets.
“They break, ma’am.”
“Break?” Our pianoforte had never broken, although it was often out of tune.
But Mrs. Reynolds had returned to her prior topic. “Mr. Darcy would not stand for extravagance either, although whatever gives his sister pleasure is done in a moment. Miss Darcy has become quite firm in telling him no. But the master takes after his father. Old Mr. Darcy was a generous man and affable to the poor. Young Mr. Darcy exceeds even his standard.”
“Does he?” I asked, trying for a tone of casual interest.
“I dare say I do not know the half of it, for he is a modest gentleman. But the schools are one project all his own, and a great effort.”
“We saw the school in Lambton,” my aunt said. “The children were most eager.”
Mrs. Reynolds turned her attention to the little housemaid. “Lucy would know, for she takes lessons there.” She gave an encouraging smile. “What do you say, girl? Are the children eager?”
The silence lengthened. Perhaps the maid was too shy to speak before visitors.
The white cap lifted, and a familiar set of eyes found mine.
In an apologetic voice, the little housemaid who had done my hair at Netherfield said, “Good morning, ma’am.”
“Oh, my goodness!” I ran over and caught her hands. “How did you come here?”
“I don’t rightly know, ma’am.” She was grinning now. “It just happened. Mr. Bingley went traveling, and Miss Bingley was going to dismiss me, with not enough housekeeping to do. But then a coach came to London, and I was offered a position.” Her smile widened. “I greatly enjoy it, ma’am.”
“I cannot believe it!” I said.
Mrs. Reynolds stepped beside us, for the first time a stern housekeeper. Lucy dropped my hands and gave a silent curtsy.
“It is quite all right,” I said to Mrs. Reynolds. “We have an old acquaintance from when she served at Netherfield.”
Mrs. Reynolds considered that, then nodded regally. She patted Lucy on the shoulder and led the way from the room.
I lingered, catching Lucy’s hand for a squeeze. I had not realized how fond of her I had become.
“Will you visit again?” she whispered.
The answer was no, but I was reluctant to say it. I mouthed,I do not know.Then I had to run to catch up with our guide.
32
AN URGENT ERRAND
Mrs. Reynolds sawus to the front door and introduced the gardener, a solid fellow of middle years with a deep tan and a big smile.
“The young lady knows the master,” finished Mrs. Reynolds.
He laughed deep in his belly. “A rare treat, then.”
Mrs. Reynolds harrumphed and received a cheeky grin in response, but she smiled as she turned away.
The gardener led us outside to a path beside the stream. He and my uncle began discussing the construction of the pools, the date of the original building, and other details that fascinated a man in trade.
I slowed, realizing I had forgotten to ask for a jug. Then I stopped, trying to understand my feelings. This visit had been different than I expected.
The stream chimed beside me. The valley shone with life. Below, the lake lay still, dark, and cold.
With a tremendous splashing, the Gardiners’ tykeworm bounded across the stream, arriving at my feet soaking wet and happy.
