Posted on Monday, 31 October 2005
The wind howled as the storm made all the candles flicker. A rattling rose above the wind as Lizzy tossed and turned. Giving up on sleep she got up to ensure that the rattling was not a window carelessly left unshuttered by a servant.
In only five months as mistress of Pemberley, Lizzy had no complaints with her servants for three weeks out of four, but on that fourth week they became shockingly lazy; in fact they almost disappeared! They were never where they should be! Their laziness made her husband bad tempered and Darcy, not wishing to impose his temper on his lovely wife, would keep away from Lizzy during this period.
Not having Darcy in bed with her was enough to make Lizzy remonstrate severely with her servants, but nothing would make them stop their jittery and lazy behaviour!
If Lizzy had had those masters that Lady Catherine deemed necessary to the education of a young lady, she might have noticed that the cycle of laziness and her husband's bad temper corresponded with the phases of the moon. But as her father and mother had not made such information forcibly available and Lizzy only saw the moon as a pretty object that hung in the sky, she was ignorant of such a coincidence.
The shutter was undone and Lizzy looked up at that full bright moon. She fastened it carefully and went back to bed. She knew she would look a fright in the morning and could not even fix her hair as her bedchamber had no mirrors. Darcy hated mirrors when he was in a bad tempered and had them all covered up during his bad moods, except the one in Lizzy's room which was actually removed until the servants had stopped annoying him.
Darcy was sullen at breakfast the next morning but his spirits soon rose and everything was back to normal.
Since this was the fifth time such things had occurred, Lizzy decided that she would go into the village and talk to Darcy's tenants; perhaps they would know what caused such a gloom to descend upon Pemberley!
After kissing her husband and watching him take his favourite horse out of the stables, Lizzy set off basket in hand to traipse across the Park.
Mrs. Cadman greeted her at the door of her jolly thatched cottage. She listened sympathetically to Lizzy's grievances.
"Ay," she nodded as Lizzy detailed the activities of her servants and the shocking effect on her husband, who was so fair and amiable the rest of the time!
Lizzy waited for the wise woman to tell her how to handle such insufferable insubordination.
"But, ma'am, did you not know of the curse of Pemberley?"
"The Curse of Pemberley?"
"Ay! It was the time of Edward the Confessor, so such a long time ago, and while Pemberley did not stand, a manor did, and the owner of that manner sided with the Godwins, and Edward the Confessor's archbishop of Canterbury cursed him. Cursed him for a thousand years! Every since then, strange things happen around Pemberley."
Lizzy was astounded.
"Of course it is not in the guide books, so of course you would not know of such a thing! And no one would tell you for you are a foreigner to these parts! As for Mr. Darcy, he would not speak of it, he does not believe in the curse. "
Lizzy nodded. Darcy was far too rational to believe in a curse which dated from the 11th century!
Lizzy sipped her tea and then a though occurred to her - "What strange things?"
"Dead animals," replied Mrs. Cadman seriously.
"Dead animals!" Lizzy snorted. Dead animals were not strange things.
"Dead animals drained of blood."
"Oh. Anything more?"
"Cries at night!"
"Cries at night?"
"Yes, unearthly shrieks and people have seen a gruesome beast stalking the grounds!"
"A gruesome beast?"
"Like one raised from the dead."
"A gruesome zombie beast?"
"Yes with no head."
Lizzy's teacup clattered onto the saucer - "no head?"
"Well there is a head, but he carries it around, so well I wouldn't call it a useful head; I suppose that is why he rides the horse because it would know where they were going."
"He?"
Mrs. Cadman offered Lizzy a biscuit. - "Vell a gruesome zombie beast that drains animals of blood should be given an identity - it's only proper"
"What do you call.... him ?" said Lizzy aghast.
"I call him Fred," replied Mrs. Cadman.
Lizzy's talk with the village woman quite spooked her for the next couple of nights. Darcy could not move without Lizzy waking and shrieking - "Fred." After explaining to Darcy that Fred was an old cow that she had been particularly fond of as a child, she could not bear explaining that she had been taken in by village gossip, Darcy put away his duelling swords.
It only took a couple of nights for Lizzy to laugh at herself for being so affected and even mentioned it to Mrs. Reynolds who turned pale.
"You have not told the master?"
"No, I have not Mrs. Reynolds. He has learned to laugh at me and I would not give him any more ammunition.!"
Mrs. Reynolds looked relieved. She would not be relieved if she realised her mistress fully intended when the next four week cycle occurred to fully investigate.
Darcy was not in bed. Lizzy knew what this meant and got up. She grabbed up a shawl was lying on the chair near the dying fire. Lizzy had had to stoke it herself and her fire-poking skills were not advanced.
Lizzy was far too intelligent to read gothic novels. She looked down on her younger sisters who would huddle over them, and how they would giggle and shriek. However, if she had read such novels she would have realised that she was conforming to a stereotype.
It was impossible for a young lady who went looking for answers in the middle of the night, not to be dressed in virginal white. It wasn't of course necessary to be virginal, but you did have to look it. One also had to carry a candle, clutch a shawl and have hair falling artistically around your shoulders.
Oh and have bare feet.
It was if some thing...or someone...was checking off a list as they sent Lizzy creeping down the hallways of Pemberley. The windows rattled, the curtains flapped, candles flickered.
Darcy was not in his own bedchamber, so Lizzy wandered down into the labyrinth that was Pemberley's servants' quarters.
Lizzy failed to find anyone, until she reached the kitchen and Bob the Gardener was dozing in a rocking chair.
This perhaps might not present a strange picture until you factored in the fact he was holding a musket and was positioned outside of a locked door. Padlocked from the outside.
"Bob!"
"GAHHRRHRH!"
Lizzy had the unpleasant experience of having a gun pointed at her.
"Bob!"
"Ma'am," said Bob looking nervously towards the locked door.
"What are you doing? Who are you holding in there."
"No one."
"I do not believe you! Open that door!"
Bob looked sheepish - "It's my chickens, ma'am"
"Your chickens?"
"Yes, they get mighty rowdy so I keep them in there..."
"Open that door."
Bob tugged his forelock and pulled out the keys. He unlocked the padlock, and then unbolted the, to Lizzy completely unnecessary for chickens, four bolts.
There were of course no chickens in the room, but all of Pemberley's servants.
"Mrs. Reynolds? Sally! Tom!" Lizzy's eyes widened in horror as she took in everybody.
"I can explain!" said Bob.
"You can explain holding captive my servants? Do you do this every month?"
"We take it in turns, "said Mrs. Reynolds, cursing the fact she had underestimated Lizzy's nosiness.
"Turns to lock yourself in the storeroom?"
"It's Fred, ma'am" said Sally.
Lizzy rolled her eyes. "There is no such thing as Fred..."
"Ma'am!" exclaimed Fred the undergardener.
"Except you, Fred - if they were afraid of you they would hardly lock themselves in with you!"
Lizzy shooed her servants back to their places, but as Mrs. Reynolds left, Lizzy called her back.
"Why is the lock on the outside? If it there for protection?"
"Because, ma'am, if Fred had gotten to Bob, then no padlock would hold him back."
Lizzy rolled her eyes again. Why were servants so provincial?
Really, headless zombie vampire werewolf horsemen did not exist! And if they did exist they would not be called Fred.
As she prepared a strongly worded lecture in her head, Lizzy made herself a cup of tea. In the morning she would call all the servants together and tell them not to listen to Mrs. Cadman and the other village gossips' gossip!
Lizzy took her tea into the library and there she found her husband.
Darcy was seated in a chair staring at the fire, Lizzy could only see his legs, but he looked comfortable.
"There you are, my dear, how did you ever survive without me? I cannot imagine how you coped with your servants acting so stupidly every month! But I have sorted them out!"
"Have you?"
Lizzy blinked. Darcy was sitting in the chair over here, but the voice was coming from over there.
Lizzy sipped on her tea as she turned.
To find her husband's head in a chair.
She choked.
"Lizzy? Is something wrong? My legs were cold and my brain was not, so..."
His green, hairy face tried to smile at her, revealing fangs.
Lizzy found the tea had gone down the wrong way and could not breathe, her last words were - "Fred?"
Darcy's body stood up and collected his head.
He held his face close to Lizzy's now lifeless one, to seemingly no one, he commented - "The tea killed her."
Mrs. Cadman swooped in from the window. "How fortunate!"
Mrs. Cadman was not dressed in virginal white; she was dressed in black with a visible corset. She had liberally dusted herself with power so she was pale and alluring.
It had to be thus to be the equal companion of the man standing before her; she even had the voice! And the voice was hell!
"My Darlink Fred!" she said "Vhat Vonderful Music Ve shall Make together!"
Darcy smiled. It had taken him so long to realise that virginal white was not what he wanted, or needed! He needed sophisticated black, a woman who truly understood him and could control the darkness within him.
"The foolish girl, she did not even realise vhat I meant when I said I called you Fred!"
Mrs. Cadman threw the sofa covering over the corpse. "Now Darlink put your head back on. You know I can't abide a man who cannot keep his head? Vhat would happen if you left it somevere?"
Darcy nodded like an overgrown puppy and tied his head back on.