Page 4 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
The park was very large and contained great variety of ground. They entered at one of its lowest points and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent. Elizabeth thought that might be the only good part of this whole endeavour. To the best of her knowledge, she had nothing whatsoever to accomplish in the next few months. She was unlikely to make friends of any consequence if she could not call or accept calls, and she had no idea which neighbours her husband considered acceptable. She obviously would not be writing to her family and friends in Meryton, since she had neither, so there was little to do except learning these lovely woods in detail and perhaps improving her ladylike accomplishments.
They gradually ascended for half a mile and found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by aridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned.
In a better frame of mind, without the sword of Damocles hanging over her, Elizabeth might have been delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. In her daydream of visiting with her relatives, she could imagine all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she very well might have felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something.
Instead, all she saw was a very nice prison. The things she could easily love were obviously the work of many generations, and her husband was due no credit for anything except having enough sense (or laziness) to leave well enough alone.
Elizabeth was greeted by only an older woman and man, both about her parents’ age, whom she guessed to be the butler and housekeeper. In a normal marriage, the new mistress of the estate would be introduced to all the staff by the master, but that was not to be, which she found unsurprising.
“Mrs Darcy, welcome to Pemberley,” said the man with a bow and the imperturbable expression common to those of his profession. Elizabeth occasionally wondered how many hours of practice before a mirror were required to master it, but she would never ask such an impertinent question.
“I am Mr Jennings, your butler.”
“And I am Mrs Reynolds, your housekeeper, madam.”
Elizabeth liked the look of Mrs Reynolds, mostly because she seemed like the no-nonsense matrons she gravitated towards on her truncated escape attempt. She was under no illusion the housekeeper was on her side, but she liked to imagine she would at least be neutral.
Feeling extremely awkward, she said, “Good afternoon. As you have surmised, I am Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.”
Mrs Reynolds said, “I will show you to a place to refresh yourself. We laid out some tea and biscuits in the Yellow Parlour, if you have no objections.”
“That sounds lovely. Thank you.”
They all trooped into the house, where the butler helped Elizabeth out of her coat and gloves; then she exchanged her bonnet for a black mobcap. Elizabeth felt all the awkwardness of the situation, but had some sympathy for the two retainers, who were no doubt suffering double or treble the discomfort. While her husband had left her in an untenable position, how much more awkward must it be for them.
Elizabeth spent a quarter hour in a retiring room, then found Mrs Reynolds waiting patiently to escort her to the Yellow Parlour. They entered, and Mrs Reynolds asked her how she liked her tea. Trying to pretend it was a normal, everyday occurrence, Elizabeth gave her preferences, then asked both to attend her in half an hour after she had taken some tea and biscuits, to which they readily agreed.
Left alone in what she had to admit was quite an enchanting parlour, she settled back to try to calm her shattered nerves. The room was small and personal, and Elizabeth wondered if it was used for intimate gatherings of small groups of friends; or if it was the place hardest for the other servants to spy on. In her present state of mind, she suspected the latter, but decided that was uncharitable—probably true, but uncharitable nonetheless.
Half an hour later, Jennings and Reynolds returned, and Elizabeth thought it was about time to get the awkward conversation over with.
“Mr Jennings. Mrs Reynolds. I understand it is unconventional, but I will ask you to sit or I will stand. It is your choice.”
Both frowned at the suggestion, but Elizabeth just waited for them to decide. Those two could make her experience reasonably pleasant, or a living hell. She was naturally inclined towards the former; but no matter her restrictions, shewasthe mistress of this estate, and if she did not establishsomeauthority, she would regret it for a long time. Authority once given was difficult to retrieve.
The two seemed confused for a moment, but eventually both joined her at the table.
Without preamble, Elizabeth asked, “What have you heard about how things are to proceed in my husband’s absence?”
The two looked back and forth, and finally Jennings retrieved a letter from an inside pocket. “Mrs Darcy, to be frank, the instructions seem… unusual… and he did not mention you being in mourning at all.”
“May I see the instructions?”
Jennings felt extremely uncomfortable being asked permission for anythingby the mistress of the estate, so he just handed the letter over.
Elizabeth read the note and found it included the same restrictions her husband outlined in the carriage on the way to Hatfield. The butler and housekeeper would maintain the house with its present customs until his return. Elizabeth was not to call or take callers, not to entertain, not to visit the tenants, not to use the carriage more than twice a week, and not to redecorate anything save the mistress’ suite. She could walk or ride as she chose, if accompanied. She was thankful he left off the part about the books on the black shelves, not because she would disregard his instructions, but because the debacle was humiliating enough without that.
“This agrees with what he told me.”
She put down the letter and looked back and forth between the two pensively.
“We will be in each other’s company for some time, in a situation rife for mischief and misunderstanding. Does that seem a reasonable assessment?”
Feeling the conversation had left the safety of propriety some time earlier, both servants looked at each other, and finally Mrs Reynolds spoke for both. “To be honest, I do not understand any of this.”
Elizabeth sighed resignedly. “My husband has left me in quite a poor position, but I do not expect you to comment on that. It is not your place to choose sides, nor my desire to make you do so.”
Mrs Reynolds looked at her carefully. “That is kind of you. I find the whole thing does not match my understanding of your husband. I have never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old.”
