Page 10 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
Elizabeth had almost forgotten about that. “Very well. How shall we proceed?”
The man stood up a bit straighter. “You are due forty pounds per annum. The usual custom would be to pay any charges you made and then give you the balance monthly.”
Elizabeth did her best not to grunt, growl, or make any other unladylike noises. “I prefer to make my own purchases. Give me the funds, and I will deal with my own expenses, in my own way and my own time.”
The man looked either affronted or shocked. It was hard to tell, but he looked very much like someone who wanted things done the proper way, which obviously amounted to his way; but Elizabeth did not want to deal with him on a regular basis.
“If we do that, what am I to do if you charge something?”
“Do you expect me to go back on my word?”
“No, madam, but I am responsible for the finances of this estate.”
“Do you truly believe I am capable of putting even the tiniest dent in the finances of an estate like this?” Elizabeth asked in exasperation, waving her arms around atthisto encompass the enormity of Pemberley.
While she could, with a Herculean effort, just barely see his point, he seemed to be making her life difficult just because he could—or worse yet—because her husband instructed him to.
“I have no idea, madam. I am however in the master’s confidence, so I know the truth of the situation.”
The set of his jaw and absolute confidence that he thoroughly understood the new mistress, set said mistress’ teeth on edge, but she tried to adopt a reasonable tone, just so there wasonesensible person in the room.
“I see—but let me ask you this. Do you knowthetruth, orhistruth?”
“They are one and the same, madam.”
“They most certainly are not!”Elizabeth snapped, trying and failing to keep her temper in check.
Unintimidated by her escalating temper, the steward continued implacably. “Are you suggesting you arenotmarried due to a compromise?”
The sheer effrontery of having an employee speak both openly and disparagingly about the mistress of the estate told Elizabeth all she needed to know, but she thought to try reasonableness one last time.
“Thatis true. It is also true thatmy motherengineered it. However,Ihad nothing to do with it, and if Mr Darcy told you otherwise, he is vastly mistaken,” leaving unspoken the very real possibility that her husband was a liar.
The man half-grunted, “The apple does not—” but then managed to get his temper under control before finishing the old refrain, leaving unsaid the conclusion, ‘—fall far from the tree.’
He was normally quite an imperturbable man, but the fact that his master’s life had been thoroughly interrupted by an adventuress and her mother, which could have real material consequences for his own life and occupation, coupled with her complete lack of respect for his position, set his teeth on edge, and angry men are seldom wise.
He reeled in his temper. “Mistaken or not, madam, heisthe master, and I have my instructions. You are due forty pounds per annum. He left disbursement to my discretion.”
Elizabeth snapped angrily, “So you could wait until the end of the year, then give me forty pounds, and be within your instructions?”
He belatedly realised the conversation was going very badly. “Yes, but it would clearly not be the correct way to do things!”
Entirely disgusted with the man, and fed up with his insinuations, which were in danger of turning into outright accusations, Elizabeth asked, “What do you propose?”
Finally feeling the upper hand, Knight said, “I like to do things quarterly, so the total budget for the first quarter would be ten pounds. I understand you are expected to pay for your postage, but I will deduct that from the next quarter’s allowance.”
Elizabeth thought she might break a tooth from grinding them so hard but said nothing. His remarks about postage, in addition to the blisteringly obvious level of pettiness her husband clearly had, reminded her she needed to ensure she was not inundated with post from Hertfordshire. The idea of paying money from her pittance of an allowance to read whatever nonsense her family wrote was likely to keep her up at night.
Either unaware, or more likely uncaring, of the consternation his words caused the mistress, Knight continued, “For this quarter, I feel it only fair to add seventeen shillings sixpence for the eight days you have already been married.”
Elizabeth huffed at the sheer pettiness of the statement and spoke with an edge to her voice. “Is it your contention that an estate that brings in a reputed ten thousand per annum needs to budget the mistress’ allowance to the penny?”
Not liking her surly tone, he said, “There is no other way to look at it. What do you suggest I round to? The nearest pound? The nearest shilling? I was instructed that your pin money is forty pounds, not forty-one, not thirty-nine. If you take offencewith simple arithmetic, I cannot satisfy you with anything other than a suggestion you consult your husband.”
“My husband may as well not exist, for all the good he is likely to do me,” Elizabeth said, proving the steward was not the only one who was not wise while angry.
Knight was clenching his own teeth by then. “Your dealings with your husband are your business, Mrs Darcy. Your dealings with this estate, until his return, are mine.”
