Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Sunday, 17 October 2004

Mr. Darcy’s new bride had been at Pemberley three and a half months when Mrs. Reynolds found occasion to brew some of her family recipe for raspberry ginger tea. It was uncharacteristic of the master to remain in his chambers past seven, so when he did not emerge until eight, Mrs. Reynolds suspected that Mrs. Darcy must have been in some discomfort, and the master had not wished to leave her side. The idea reached conviction an hour later when Mrs. Darcy appeared, possessing somewhat less of her usual vivacity. With that, Mrs. Reynolds took out the ginger root she had stored since the wedding and found the stillroom maid to teach her how to prepare an infusion of raspberries for the tea.

"Mrs. Reynolds, what brings you to the larder at this hour?" asked Constance, the undercook. The kitchen and larder were the cooks' domain; as housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds had other responsibilities. "Mmmm, Jamaica ginger," said Constance, peering over Mrs. Reynolds' shoulder as she unwrapped the root. "I don’t remember any requests for that."

"I am teaching Nancy a new recipe for tea. With the master and mistress just home from town, I thought it a fitting time for a treat."

"'Tis strange they are come back so soon," observed Constance. "I thought they went to commission a portrait. Why would they return without it?"

"It is none of our concern," said Mrs. Reynolds, glancing at Nancy to warn her against joining in Constance's speculations. Constance viewed this sort of meddling as harmless fun, but Mrs. Reynolds would not tolerate it, especially not in the presence of one of the younger maids. Nancy took the warning and kept obediently silent.

"It is none of our concern," Mrs. Reynolds repeated, "except insofar as their early arrival alters our work schedules. I will be going to Lambton at the end of this week. You and Mr. Oliver should make up your marketing list."

"Monsieur Olivierre," corrected Constance in a mocking but perfect French accent. Mrs. Reynolds knew Constance meant to ridicule the head cook and not herself, but she reddened nevertheless. Meanwhile, she could content herself that she had successfully distracted Constance, whose thoughts had turned either to some grievance she bore against Mr. Olivierre or perhaps to the gossip circulating around Lambton. Thus freed, she led Nancy to the stillroom for her lesson in brewing the tea.

"The ginger is the most important ingredient, and you should be generous with it. You saw how to wrap the root for freshness."

"Yes, ma’am," said Nancy. She had worked in the stillroom for several years and always watched Mrs. Reynolds’ actions attentively, knowing they carried at least as much instruction as her words. Nancy had become a skilled and trusted worker from precisely this sort of keen observation.

"If Mrs. Darcy likes this blend, make if for her as often as she requests. Now set the tray and find a footman to serve it to her."

"Yes, ma’am," said Nancy with a curtsy as Mrs. Reynolds left her to her duties.

Mrs. Reynolds proceeded on to her own workroom where Mrs. Darcy’s maid was busily mending one of her mistress’ finer winter gowns. Polly stood and curtsied when Mrs. Reynolds entered. Relieved at finding her alone, Mrs. Reynolds began, "Polly, from now on, after you have brought Mrs. Darcy her water, you will immediately bring her up a tray of tea and toast. This is especially important on mornings like this one when she does not come down to breakfast as early as usual."

Polly nodded and Mrs. Reynolds was satisfied. Discretion was an essential trait in all servants, but especially in ladies' maids. If Polly suspected anything more in this command than what was said, she had the wisdom not to repeat it.

When the neighborhood learned that Mr. Darcy was to marry, Polly's position had been a coveted one. Cora, the maid who attended Miss Georgiana, might have expected to be promoted to the senior position, but she was as timid in manner as Miss Darcy herself. Her attachment to Miss Darcy was in fact so strong and their temperaments so well-suited that quitting Miss Darcy was beyond her consideration. It was she who recommended Polly, her older sister, to attend the new mistress of Pemberley. Until then, Polly had been serving the Duchess at Bradwell, who was known to be demanding. Mrs. Reynolds was at first a bit reluctant to hire a maid who would so quickly change her place - perhaps the girl was flighty and would quit Pemberley as suddenly as she was willing to quit Bradwell - but her sister assured Mrs. Reynolds that this was not the case. A few inquiries corroborated this, so Polly joined the Pemberley staff, and both Mrs. Reynolds and Polly quickly came to rejoice in their decision.

Mrs. Reynolds' next task was to inspect the upstairs rooms. Since the Darcys had risen late, it would have been unreasonable to expect the upstairs maid to have finished, so she ascended the rear staircase to the guest wing, slowly and quietly, making her supervision as unobtrusive as possible.

The guest wing had not been used in recent weeks, and as long as the rooms stood vacant, very little cleaning was required there. The furnishings were now covered in white sheets as a protection from dust, waiting for removal when the next guests would arrive, whoever they might be. Mrs. Reynolds did insist that the rooms be swept out daily, and the upstairs maid had seen to that more than adequately.

The current emptiness of these rooms was a stark contrast to the bustle that had prevailed in the holiday season. Mrs. Darcy had proven quite fond of entertaining, and this year, many new guests had occupied those rooms: the Bennet family, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and the Gardiners and their children. The Gardiners' visit inspired Mrs. Darcy to make her first change at Pemberley House. Most of the house remained furnished as Lady Anne Darcy had directed in her lifetime, achieving a decor of elegance without ostentation. The young Mrs. Darcy so admired her predecessor's tastes that she had not wished to change anything, but for the sake of her favorite aunt and uncle, one of the guest rooms was being redesigned into a guest nursery room. Except for the activity this undertaking involved, the guest wing had been quiet since the holidays, and certainly it was the Darcys’ right to enjoy their privacy as newlyweds.

From the guest wing, Mrs. Reynolds passed through the hallway, noting the polished oak of the door frames, and turned the corner to the governess' quarters, now occupied by Mrs. Annesley. Mrs. Annesley was a genteel woman close to Mrs. Reynolds' age, and she had earned the esteem of everyone at Pemberley, the Darcys and the servants alike. Her charge was as reverent a pupil as could be, but her relationship with Miss Darcy was not as warm as that between the young lady and Mrs. Reynolds. Mrs. Reynolds had known Miss Darcy since the day of her birth and through every trial of her life, from the losses of her parents to her heartbreak after Ramsgate. To Miss Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley was an authority figure, while Mrs. Reynolds could be a confidante.

Mrs. Annesley's window offered Mrs. Reynolds a good view of where the laundry maid should have been working, and Mrs. Reynolds was irritated at not finding her there. Since the snow had melted, Martha was expected to perform her duties outdoors, and she had begun to grow lax. It was her first position at a fine house; she had sought the position of lady’s maid, but inexperienced and uneducated as she was, she was not at all suited for it. She was, however, robust in appearance and seemed fully capable of the more arduous tasks of a laundry maid, so on that basis Mrs. Reynolds hired her. Now that Martha's work was slackening, Mrs. Reynolds was considering what course of action to take with her. Her current absence did not help matters, and in a disgruntled spirit, Mrs. Reynolds proceeded to Miss Darcy’s apartment.

Miss Darcy's rooms consisted of her chambers, her dressing room, and her sitting room, all of which had been fitted up with greater elegance and lightness the summer before. The new furnishings reflected Miss Darcy’s maturing tastes; it was no longer the sitting room of a girl, but of a refined young woman. Her most cherished possessions were kept in that room. Her drawing desk stood near the window overlooking some of Pemberley's finest gardens. And in the center of the room was the pianoforte Mr. Darcy had purchased for her sixteenth birthday, moved above so that Miss Darcy could practice in privacy. She was practicing at it right then, her lyrical soprano voice carrying through that wing of the house. As Mrs. Reynolds surveyed the other rooms, she left the doors open and allowed the music to soothe her.

Glancing at the clock, Mrs. Reynolds felt she could give the upstairs maid a bit more time to finish the Darcys' apartment. She walked past it to another apartment not currently in use, the rooms Mr. Darcy used before he was married. There could be no happier occasion for the closing of rooms, but Mrs. Reynolds would not allow them to fall into neglect. Mrs. Reynolds found them swept and dusted thoroughly, so she closed their door quietly and walked toward the opposite end of the hallway. She again passed the Darcys’ apartment and heard the upstairs maid working busily within it. She rapped lightly on the door to alert the maid of her presence and entered the nursery, the last area upstairs not yet in active use.

At that moment, the voice dearest to her in the world interrupted her thoughts. "The mistress wishes to speak to you, Mother."

She smiled at her son, the picture of service in his smart footman's livery. Their disparate duties gave them little opportunity to speak during the day, and she could not think of tarrying to chat now when the mistress had summoned. She followed Joseph downstairs to Mrs. Darcy's sitting room where she was writing a letter, the tea service laid out on the table before her. Mrs. Reynolds observed with some pride that the mistress was already looking more refreshed.

She had grown fond of Mrs. Darcy with uncommon speed. That she was Mr. Darcy's choice after many years of bachelorhood predisposed her in Mrs. Reynolds' favor, but Mrs. Reynolds could never have predicted her character. She was open and confident in her manner, and not afraid to admit to Mrs. Reynolds that she was somewhat overwhelmed by all the wealth and responsibility that had suddenly become hers. She gratefully accepted the advice and experience of the older woman, despite their difference in rank. The daily meetings in which they discussed the housekeeping had become a great pleasure to Mrs. Reynolds.

This time, the interview was brief. The Darcys had invited no guests, having just returned from London themselves, but there was one unusual order, which Mrs. Darcy gave with a coy smile: Mr. Darcy wished to be interrupted in whatever he was doing when the new portrait was delivered.

"She is truly the blushing bride," thought Mrs. Reynolds.

"And Mrs. Reynolds, I must thank you. I understand this delicious tea was made especially as a treat for me. What is in it?"

Mrs. Reynolds had not wanted to solicit praise for herself, but she could not fail to answer Mrs. Darcy's direct question. "It's a raspberry infusion with ginger root and honey, madam." As soon as she had spoken, she realized she was glad of the opportunity of giving an explanation. Knowing she could speak openly to Mrs. Darcy, she added, "It’s an old family remedy for nausea. I've stored enough root to last several months."

Mrs. Darcy's eyes brightened, "Oh, Mrs. Reynolds, you do think of everything!"

Slightly embarrassed, Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and began to leave when Mrs. Darcy asked her to invite Miss Georgiana to join her.

Returning upstairs, Mrs. Reynolds waited at the door of Miss Georgiana's sitting room until she finished her song. Mrs. Reynolds enjoyed watching Georgiana while she played, perhaps even more than she enjoyed hearing her. In this private room, the young lady would sit at her pianoforte and lose all her inhibitions. There were no parties and guests to please here, no ladies to flatter and embarrass her, and no men with less than gentlemanly intentions. There was only Georgiana, her music, and the possessions she most cherished. Right outside, were the people she most trusted - her beloved brother, his new wife, and Mrs. Reynolds herself.

Miss Darcy sang out the last clear note of her finale, and Mrs. Reynolds entered the room.

"Miss Darcy, I declare you are a regular songbird."

"Oh, Mrs. Reynolds!" she cried, coloring.

"The mistress has requested your presence. She is taking tea in her sitting room downstairs."

Georgiana, accompanied by Mrs. Annesley, joined her new sister while Mrs. Reynolds straightened up the room. She took great pleasure in the upkeep of this one, Miss Georgiana's favorite, and reserved its care to herself. Pemberley was Miss Georgiana's permanent home now, and to Mrs. Reynolds' mind, one of the most favorable results of Mr. Darcy's marriage. Now nearing her seventeenth birthday, it seemed likely that suitors would soon approach, but Mrs. Reynolds feared difficulties in that quarter. There were few men who could win Miss Darcy's trust and perhaps fewer still who could earn Mr. Darcy's approbation.

From the window in Miss Darcy’s sitting room, Mrs. Reynolds spotted Martha talking to Timothy, the lower gardener. Mrs. Reynolds rapped hard against the window, startling the derelict couple. They looked up to see Mrs. Reynolds' angry scowl and quickly separated. Mrs. Reynolds' steps also quickened, and she went directly to the hallway closet to see how many of her duties Martha had shirked. Stacks of towels and sheets neatly lined the shelves. This pacified Mrs. Reynolds somewhat, but her patience for the girl was wearing thin. She preferred not to speak to the Darcys about her; it would risk her dismissal. Martha herself might be too foolhardy to appreciate it, but Pemberley was the best place for any servant. Mr. Darcy, like his father before him, was known to be the kindliest master in the country. The new mistress was proving to be as magnanimous to the servants as her husband. As a maid in any other house, Martha would have to endure far worse conditions. Mrs. Reynolds would not have that on her conscience.

Ellen, the upstairs maid, emerged from Mrs. Darcy's dressing room, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of the morning. Even without inspecting the remaining rooms, Mrs. Reynolds knew she was deserving of praise.

"Very good work, Ellen. Now you may go downstairs and have a bit of tea."

"Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am," said Ellen with a grateful smile and curtsy.

She bounded down the stairs with slightly renewed energy, and Mrs. Reynolds wished her supervision could always be so easy. She far preferred to achieve efficiency amongst her staff through kindness and not fear.

She then turned and walked toward the gallery, another area of the house whose care was her exclusive responsibility. As she dusted the furnishings and portraits, she paused to look at the portraits of Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne. Remembering their charity, she reassured herself that she had chosen the right path in remaining patient with Martha. Mrs. Reynolds fervently hoped she could teach Martha to strive for the excellence that befitted a servant at Pemberley. An entire family was depending on it.

Mrs. Reynolds turned at the sound of Mr. Darcy's long strides up the gallery stairs. He looked as stately and handsome as ever, but only someone who knew him very well could detect the agitation in his manner. His eyes darted around at the many portraits of his illustrious ancestors, finally resting on the very same portraits of his parents that Mrs. Reynolds had just been contemplating. She wondered at the comparisons that might be passing though his mind and was rather charmed at the thought. The perturbed expression on his face was for her a momentary glimpse back to the vulnerable years of his boyhood, though the concerns that plagued him now were most decidedly those of a grown man. In a voice so low as to be certain nobody could hear them, he asked her with a worried air, "Did my wife seem well today?"

"Ah, Mr. Darcy," thought Mrs. Reynolds to herself, "I knew why you followed me up here. I knew you would ask." But she would never speak such words aloud. She looked down at her hands and said, "Yes, sir. I gave her a special brew of tea this morning. She quite enjoyed it." This was as direct as she would be on the subject with him. He was silent and she hoped this meant he understood. For all his worldliness, in some ways, he was still very innocent. Perhaps he was as embarrassed as she, for he abruptly changed the subject.

"Has your son found the book I loaned him useful?"

Mrs. Reynolds raised her eyes. It was a mark of distinction that he chose to further her son's education over and above any of the other household servants'.

"Yes sir, I believe he has finished it."

"Good. I will loan him the second volume when I next see him."

Mrs. Reynolds thanked him when she noticed him gaze past her, out the window, and his expression change to delight. She looked out the window to see what had so arrested him.

"Your delivery from London!" she exclaimed.

He nodded and began to descend the stairs. "Please find a manservant to remove that somber old fellow," he said, gesturing to his portrait occupying the center place.

"That was already done by a young lady," thought Mrs. Reynolds, chuckling to herself.

Within minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Miss Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, and almost every servant in the house was in the gallery. Joseph hung the new portrait for all to admire. Mr. Darcy, in a rare display of physical affection, drew his wife close to him.

"Ah, sweet justice," he sighed. She looked at him inquisitively. Beaming at her, he explained, "I was just remembering a discussion with someone as to whether any painter could possibly capture the shine and expression of your beautiful eyes." He looked from her eyes to the painting and back. "And Mr. - has done it splendidly!"

At that, her eyes did sparkle and well up with a few happy tears. It was now preserved for posterity; the mistress of Pemberley was in her proper place, and she was a source of celebration to all.

Chapter 2

Posted Sunday, 24 October 2004

          The servants customarily took their dinner in the late afternoon in a plain but large room behind the kitchen. There was a smaller one adjacent to it intended only for the senior staff, but Mrs. Reynolds found that keeping the staff together for their dinner was conducive to both closer supervision and more peaceful relations. Two long tables sufficed for all of them, and while the conversation was frequently lively, Mrs. Reynolds always remained attentive enough to the rest of the house to hear any summonses.

          "Tell us about the portrait," urged Constance, sitting down. None of the kitchen staff had been able to participate in the morning procession to the gallery.

          "She wore her new burgundy velvet with the ruby pendant he bought her," described Polly.

          "They posed with their hands almost touching, so you could see her wedding ring," said Ellen.

          "Her hairstyle was really simple, but she still looked like one of those ladies in the fashion magazines Miss Bingley left behind last year," said Miss Georgiana's maid, Cora.

          "Imagine if Mr. Darcy had married her. Think of all the hours poor Polly would have to spend on her lady’s toilette!"

          "And to what effect?"

          The laughter was uproarious. Miss Bingley's haughtiness had made her a most disliked person amongst the servants, and she was therefore a favorite subject of ridicule. She had been the precisely sort of guest they most despised: one who demanded much from them yet felt it beneath her to show them any gratitude. Even Mrs. Reynolds could not resist. "I knew before she even uttered a word that she would never succeed with the master. He could never admire such a selfish creature."

          This evoked an even louder laugh. Miss Bingley's vain attempts to attract Mr. Darcy especially amused the servants, and his impassive responses to her added to the folly.

          "Truly," said Mrs. Reynolds more seriously, hoping to make them appreciate what they had in Mrs. Darcy, "After replenishing her wardrobe, jewelry, silverware, and furnishings, there would have been a demand to increase her pin money - at the expense of any future wage increases for us."

          This did engender more soberness amongst the girls, but Nancy demurred, "That would never have happened. Mr. Darcy has so much - "

          "We do not count other people’s money," interrupted Mrs. Reynolds, "but you are right that it would not have occurred. Mr. Darcy would never have permitted it. He willingly pays the price to have the best for Pemberley - and that includes for us - but he does not indulge his every whim. And although he makes sure his wife and sister lack for nothing, he does not tolerate extravagance." Even the menservants' table had grown quiet, "I daresay most of you would be shocked by the stories of some of the gentry who go through fortunes as large and larger than the Darcys' in a few short years."

          All were silent until Polly quietly observed, "Mrs. Darcy has not bought so very many dresses for herself at all."

          "Not near as much as I would get if I was her," declared Martha, tossing her head so that her curls bounced across her shoulders.

          The girls then began to indulge their fancy in a discussion of finery, and the menservants returned to their own concerns. Mrs. Reynolds rued that this turn of conversation was even less suitable than the last. Being surrounded by the wealth of others meant certain struggle with the sin of envy. Every servant she had ever known struggled with it, including herself. Some were resigned to the fact that they would never amass wealth, so they lived for pleasure. Menservants were particular prone to this, often squandering their wages on drink. Female servants ran the risk of spending their meager wages in a vain attempt to imitate the styles of their superiors, rather than saving and working toward the comfortable place that could be theirs with enough effort. And some servants, like her son Joseph, were exceptionally intelligent and driven to raise their station, but if they did so without confronting any envy they might harbor, they became bitter and uncharitable to those of the class they had left behind.

          Mrs. Reynolds swelled with pride as she looked over at Joseph, sitting amongst the menservants and absorbing himself in a book. Mr. Darcy had supported him at the local school and now gave him use of the library. This in itself was of little consequence to the other menservants, but Joseph's quiet and scholarly nature set him apart from them, and as the son of the housekeeper, they believed him to be the recipient of preferential treatment. Despite his youth, he remained indifferent to it all, and while their ostracizing him bothered Mrs. Reynolds, seeing him educated far outweighed her other concerns for him.

          Next to Joseph sat Timothy trying to catch Martha's eye. Martha would not hazard a glance in his direction with Mrs. Reynolds nearby. She instead engaged herself in the maidservants' talk of fashion and finery, but through her enthusiastic gestures, she seemed to have very consciously drawn Timothy's attention. Mrs. Reynolds nodded to Mr. Hammond at the head of the mens' table, and with a dart of her eyes toward Timothy and then Martha, she insured the lad would get the appropriate discipline. She then turned back to the maidservants’ table to redirect their conversation.

          "If it's dresses you want, I will be going to Lambton at the end of the week. There are some very durable fabrics with pretty prints to be had there, and I will gladly purchase some for any of you and deduct the cost from your wages."

          Each of them had been trained in needlework by their mothers, but under Mrs. Reynolds' supervision, they became masterful. These skills were useful to Pemberley, but by encouraging the maidservants to make their own clothes, their pleasure in perfecting their skills very naturally increased. Mrs. Reynolds did not object to their desire to adorn themselves; she merely wanted to teach them the modesty and thrift. They conversed about colors and trimmings until the end of the meal, and as everyone resumed their work, there came a knock at the door.

          The fine reputation of the Pemberley Estate frequently brought uninvited visitors, yet Mrs. Reynolds was surprised when Mr. Hammond informed her that the caller was the mistress’ father, Mr. Bennet. It was unthinkable that Mrs. Darcy would neglect to inform her of the guests she was expecting, and especially not her own father. Indeed, if the Darcys had followed their original schedule, they would be in London still. As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Hammond said, "I believe the master and mistress are as surprised as you are, Mrs. Reynolds."

          She was somewhat vexed. She did not like to make preparations for guests in haste. "A very strange man," she thought to herself, "visiting his newlywed daughter without prior announcement! And alone, quite alone! Where is his wife?"

          The question itself contained the answer, and Mrs. Reynolds grew sympathetic. She had had a long interview with Mrs. Bennet on the family's holiday visit. The size and grandeur of Pemberley had astounded her, which was a natural enough reaction, but Mrs. Bennet failed to comport herself with any of the dignity her daughter possessed. She was in fact so silly in her effusions and made such impractical suggestions to her daughter that Mrs. Reynolds soon concluded that all Mrs. Darcy's good sense must have been from her father's influence. Married to such a foolish woman, of course Mr. Bennet had wanted to escape. But why could he not have sent a note of his impending arrival? Loneliness did not excuse a lack of consideration.

          Preparations were made for the guest and the afternoon's chores pursued without interruption. In the evening when the servants were at leisure, Mrs. Reynolds inadvertently disturbed Mr. Bennet in the library. She assumed the gentlemen would be at port in the salon, so it seemed an ideal moment to return the book Joseph had borrowed from the library, but she entered to find Mr. Bennet.

          "Ah, Mrs. Reynolds," he said, as he put down his glass. His address was far more familiar than that to which she was accustomed. "So your son is the fine young man I had the privilege of meeting this afternoon. In Longbourn, I am starved for rational conversation; in Pemberley, the servants are scholars. You spare no expense on their education, Darcy."

          The master appeared from behind a shelf of books, startling Mrs. Reynolds. She curtsied as Mr. Darcy said, "Joseph is exceptional, sir. I cannot take credit for his achievements. Providing opportunity for scholarship is the smallest task. Scholars are the products of their own efforts. Of course, their love of learning, more often than not, comes from their parents, who also deserve much credit."

          Mrs. Reynolds blushed. "The kindest heart in the world," she thought, "What a reflection he is on his own excellent parents!"

          Mr. Darcy took a sip from his glass, and then smiling, went on, "I have great admiration for those who seek to improve their own minds by extensive reading. Some young ladies, I understand, educate themselves so respectably, they surpass the alumnae of the oldest seminaries in town. Expense is far from the only factor in a scholar’s success."

          "I am grateful that at least one of my daughters can earn me a compliment," laughed Mr. Bennet, "though perhaps I should be more charitable. Jane is an especially good girl, and she has been an excellent influence on Kitty as of late. With the disturbers to her brain removed, Kitty has displayed more good sense than I could have imagined she possessed."

          "What about Kitty?" asked Mrs. Darcy as she entered. Both men brightened on seeing her. "Are we to expect her here soon?"

          "My dear Lizzy, I might shamelessly impose on your hospitality with my company, but I would not do so with Kitty's."

          "If Kitty is as improved as I believe I heard you say, then I should be happy to have her here, and Mary as well. And I daresay we can suffer you, too, sir."

          Mrs. Reynolds had never heard such jesting between a father and daughter before, and were it not for her high regard for Mrs. Darcy, she would have been quite shocked.

          "Perhaps they might visit with Jane and Charles or my aunt and uncle Gardiner this summer?" suggested Mrs. Darcy, turning to her husband.

          "Perhaps," he replied, considering her a little doubtfully. Her playful manners belied her peaked appearance. She was struggling for ease, but could not quite achieve it.

          "Shall I send in some raspberry tea, madam?" asked Mrs. Reynolds.

          "Oh, yes, that would be lovely," said the mistress in a tone of grateful relief.

          Mrs. Reynolds bid a footman to see to Mrs. Darcy's tea and entered the servants' dining hall where Constance and the maidservants were taking tea themselves. Ordinarily, Mrs. Reynolds would have joined them before retiring to the solitude of her own quarters to plan the next day, but Martha’s absence from the group did not escape her attention. She must find the girl out.

          Martha was not in the maids' quarters, and since it was too cold for her to be outdoors, Mrs. Reynolds made a brisk search of the downstairs rooms. If she found Martha doing anything other than work in one of the Darcys' private rooms, she would be forced to dismiss her, regardless of the circumstances of her family. Any maidservant who was willing to compromise her own virtue could not be tolerated at Pemberley.

          A glimmer of light shone through the door to the late master's sitting room. That room was no longer in active use, and since it contained only pictures and some personal effects, it would be of little interest to anybody. With images of Martha and Timothy in her mind, Mrs. Reynolds fumbled with her keys and furiously pulled the door open.

          "Oh! Excuse me, Miss Darcy!" she exclaimed, curtsying awkwardly. "I thought - I was looking for - what is the matter?" Miss Darcy's cheeks were stained with fresh tears and Mrs. Reynolds' mood was instantly altered. She drew closer to Miss Darcy.

          "Little mistress," she said, affectionately using the childhood epithet, "what brings you to this room? Please tell old Mrs. Reynolds." She noticed that some of the miniatures were out of their places: a portrait of her parents as a young couple and the one of George Wickham.

          Miss Darcy shook her head. "Seeing Elizabeth with her father reminds me of my own father. I do not know why. He was so very different than Mr. Bennet."

          "Indeed," agreed Mrs. Reynolds. "I have never met a finer gentleman than your father, except perhaps for your brother."

          Miss Georgiana smiled a little. "William and Elizabeth showed Mr. Bennet their new portrait this afternoon, and then the entire gallery. He suggested they remove Aunt Catherine's picture out of respect for her. He said, 'With the gallery of Pemberley thus polluted, perhaps there might be damage to the paint on her ladyship’s likeness.'"

          Mrs. Reynolds suppressed a laugh. News of Lady De Bourgh's displeasure at Mr. Darcy's bride had made its way to the servants' hall. Any servant who had been at Pemberley in the lifetime of Lady Anne remembered the days in which Lady Catherine and her daughter were frequent visitors. Amongst them, she was as disliked a figure as Miss Bingley. Mrs. Reynolds herself had received much unsolicited advice from her ladyship and had learned many years ago to disregard her opinions. She knew that the late master had not respected her, and while his son and daughter treated her with the cordiality due her as a close relation, neither had any real affection for her. Mr. Bennet's joke could not be the source of Miss Darcy's distress, and Mrs. Reynolds waited patiently for the young lady to own it.

          Miss Darcy continued, "They brought him in here, and he saw Mr. Wickham's picture and he praised him as his favorite son-in-law." Mrs. Reynolds breathed in sharply as Miss Darcy let a few more tears fall. She was divided between indignation at Mr. Bennet's indelicacy and overwhelming pity for Miss Darcy. She thought to embrace her as she might have done years ago, but Miss Darcy was now a young lady, and to do so would be a breach of rank.

          "Why does he jest in this way?" asked Miss Darcy. "I know he cannot understand how his words hurt me, but to tease my brother, after all he has suffered?"

          "I am sure your brother was more concerned for your feelings than his own, Miss."

          "Oh yes, and Elizabeth as well. She excused us and we went upstairs. She would have sat with me a long time, but I did not wish to keep her from her father."

          "That was considerate of you, Miss Georgiana, but you must also consider yourself. To repine in secrecy in your father's old room does nothing for anybody."

          Miss Darcy nodded silently. Mrs. Reynolds longed to know her feelings about Mr. Wickham, but would not press. She felt certain that Miss Darcy had shed all illusions about him soon after her brother had foiled the wicked man's scheme. Perhaps it was simply the attentions of a charming man that she missed. The constant exposure to a couple very much in love might well cause her to wish for something similar for herself.

          "Perhaps you would like a warm bath, Miss," suggested Mrs. Reynolds. "Shall I send Cora above for you?" Miss Darcy assented, and as the two left the room, Mrs. Reynolds remembered her original purpose in entering it. "Miss Darcy, have you perhaps seen Martha the laundry maid this evening?"

          "Yes, she lit the fire and candles for me here. I daresay she was glad I asked her; the manservant bringing in the wood was following her, and she looked anxious to escape him."

          "Thank you, Miss Darcy. I will send Cora above directly." She thought Miss Darcy was entirely mistaken about Martha; she had given Martha the feelings which would have attended her had she been the culprit. Nothing that had happened between Wickham and herself had occurred without a chaperone. That fact made the incident all the more deplorable, but Mrs. Reynolds could not reflect on that now. She extinguished the fires, sent Miss Georgiana’s maid upstairs, and took up her candle to continue her search below in the storage and still rooms. For the third time that night, Mrs. Reynolds was startled by an unexpected presence behind a door. Martha was hanging sheets by the still room fireplace.

          "I’m sorry," said the girl, curtsying. "I thought these would dry in the sun today, but it was too cold."

          Mrs. Reynolds was unsure how she should react. The girl had been working, but Miss Darcy had informed her she had been chatting - or worse - with the manservant. The circumstances were suspicious but inconclusive. Mrs. Reynolds did not want to scold the girl without justification, but she must communicate in no uncertain terms the standards she expected of her staff. She stated coldly, "If the laundry has not dried by sunset, I expect you to bring it in then, and no later."

          "Yes, ma’am."

          And then more sternly, she added, "You would be more efficient if you would not stop and chat with the lads so much. If I see you doing it again, I will withhold some of your wages." Fining the staff was a common punishment housekeepers imposed on lower servants, but Mrs. Reynolds herself seldom exercised it.

          Martha could no longer face Mrs. Reynolds' gaze and mumbled, "Yes, ma’am."

          Mrs. Reynolds retired to her own quarters in bitter spirits, too ruffled after scolding Martha to join the other servants for tea. She hated being harsh and the feelings of anger it stirred up within her, yet her own feelings must also be subsumed under principle. Nothing was as important to the preservation of Pemberley's impeccable reputation as the moral character of those entrusted with its care.

Chapter 3

Posted Sunday, 31 October 2004

The following Saturday was marketing day for Mrs. Reynolds, and after completing the list with Mr. Olivierre and Constance, she departed for Lambton. Joseph was to drive the carriage, which contributed greatly to her pleasure in the outing. She cherished every moment of the short ride to the village with him and told him all she could of news about his older sisters and their children. The ride was over too soon for her liking.

The first stop was the fabric shop owned by Mrs. Alice Sonnley, a fine seamstress in her own right. She had sewn the curtains for the new guest nursery room and had been expecting Mrs. Reynolds to collect them that day. Eager to secure Mrs. Darcy's favor over the competition in London, she had also prepared a wide assortment of swatches from her finest wares. She spoke at length about the advantages of each, pulled them taut to demonstrate their durability, and allowed Mrs. Reynolds to touch them. The effort was really excessive, but Mrs. Sonnley did not know that the mistress of Pemberley was herself country-bred and already aware that the craftsmanship in market villages, at least for some things, was equal to that of London.

Mrs. Reynolds took the swatches from Mrs. Sonnley, chose some utilitarian fabrics and threads for mending, and looked over the less expensive fabrics for those few of the maidservants who felt they could afford to spare a little from their wages and treat themselves. She found her own treat as well: a simple calico for a dress for her newest grandchild. No matter how busy her schedule or how great her fatigue, nothing would prevent her from making it. She would sew with her eyes half-closed if necessary. Mrs. Sonnley handed her a long and detailed receipt, and she gathered her parcels, light enough for her to carry out of the store without Joseph's assistance.

As she proceeded with her marketing, Mrs. Reynolds was greeted pleasantly by all shopkeepers and almost every passer-by. She was a well-known figure in Lambton and commanded respect, not only as housekeeper to the family of greatest consequence in the neighborhood, but because of her own good sense and upright manner.

Her final visit was to the butchery. This minimized the amount of time the meat would be exposed, and Mrs. Reynolds liked to take her time examining it carefully. She was particular about everything she bought for Pemberley, and about foods above all else. Joseph left her in the shop and rode off to deliver the Darcys' cards and letters. She had been at the butchery for some time when Mrs. Quinn, proprietress of Lambton Inn, entered the shop.

Mrs. Quinn had been a housekeeper at another great estate in Derbyshire, and after years of saving, she and her husband left their positions and purchased the inn. Mrs. Quinn was undoubtedly an astute manager, and her inn was prosperous, but while Mrs. Reynolds did not have as much wealth, she was nevertheless held in higher estimation in the neighborhood. This irked Mrs. Quinn exceedingly.

"Good morning, Hester," said Mrs. Quinn.

"Good morning, Mrs. Quinn," answered Mrs. Reynolds. "I hope you are well."

"Oh, yes, thank you. Getting veal today, I see. Early in the season, but it looks good."

Mrs. Reynolds agreed with a silent nod.

"And how is your lovely mistress? I do like her so much. Why, who would have thought that when Mr. Darcy visited her at the inn last summer, he was actually courting her?" Mrs. Quinn fancied that having had Mrs. Darcy as a guest gave her a point of distinction over Mrs. Reynolds.

Mrs. Reynolds recalled a conversation in the period to which Mrs. Quinn alluded. She had asked the pretty young visitor if she knew Mr. Darcy and received an embarrassed "a little" as a reply.

She turned to Mrs. Quinn and told her, "I certainly knew nothing of it." She hoped this would end the conversation, but Mrs. Quinn persisted.

"We have a very interesting guest right now, in fact. Do you remember Sir Harrington who owned Dovedale years ago?"

Mrs. Reynolds did remember. She had never met Sir Harrington of Dovedale, but she knew that he had passed away a few months after Lady Anne. At the time, many people speculated that Sir Harrington's widow, a noblewoman from a foreign country, would become the next wife of the elder Mr. Darcy. Even then, Mrs. Reynolds knew the whole business was foolishness - Mr. Darcy would never re-marry - but the matter was not settled in the minds of many until the widow sold the estate and left with her children for her native country.

"That was quite some time ago," said Mrs. Reynolds, "nearly eleven years. I forget where she came from."

"The Contessa is from Venice," Mrs. Quinn informed her importantly. "Her son, the young Sir Harrington, is staying at the inn, looking for a house in Derbyshire for them to lease. Such a harrowing story he told; their country is utterly destroyed from the war."

Affecting an intimacy with the noblewoman she had never met, Mrs. Quinn continued, "The Contessa has suffered terribly from the upheaval, so the son feels the quiet of the countryside will do her some good. She waits for him in London with her daughter and son-in-law."

In spite of herself, Mrs. Reynolds' attention was caught. Seeing this, Mrs. Quinn paused to add emphasis to her next words, contrived to affect Mrs. Reynolds, "The Contessa remembered the name 'Darcy' from her days in Derbyshire and told her son to seek out the family. I daresay your master should call on him first - he is the son of a Contessa, after all. Please tell Mr. Darcy that Sir Harrington is staying at the inn."

Mrs. Quinn then turned to the meats triumphantly. Her guests outranked the Darcys, and had occasioned her giving advice to her formidable rival. With a mixture of servility and self-importance, she received Mrs. Reynolds' thanks for the information. Mrs. Reynolds would indeed impart it to Mr. Darcy, although she would not go so far as to make suggestions for his social calendar.

The sound of the carriage alerted Mrs. Reynolds that she should conclude her marketing. The butcher gave her a sizable quantity of fat for soap and candles, and she politely escaped Mrs. Quinn. Joseph helped her with the packages.

"I will need help sorting through the receipts before I give them to the steward," she told Joseph as they rode away. "Perhaps we will have time this evening." She was grateful she could rely on him for this sort of help, and as she asked for it, she was struck by a sudden thought. Joseph was likely to be able to tell her something about what Mrs. Quinn's guests had experienced in Venice. He had explained Bonaparte to her before, how he had not begun as a tyrant, but had actually promised democracy and liberality to the commoners. Few things could excite Joseph more than such a discussion. Mrs. Reynolds understood that at least part of his passion was simply his youth, but she liked to think that his strong sense of justice came from her late husband and herself. In general, however, she paid little heed to political ideals. Politics and war was men's business, and she was perfectly content to leave it to them. She dismissed the idea and returned to more home concerns.

"Mr. Bennet told me he enjoyed meeting you."

The young man smiled. "That is a compliment. Mr. Bennet is an intelligent man. Except for Mr. Darcy, I do not think I have ever met anyone so well read."

"Well read, but not always well bred," thought Mrs. Reynolds. She was exceedingly puzzled by Mr. Bennet. He had praised her son, but he had hurt Miss Darcy. His unexpected visit to Pemberley seemed an intrusion, but he had proved mindful of a young couple's need for privacy and spent much of his time during his visit in the library. But Mrs. Reynolds could not justify sharing these thoughts with Joseph; she had meant only to tell what related to him, so she changed the subject and asked him about his progress in his studies. Since finishing at the local school months ago, he had been preparing for university examinations. He began to speak with a fervor she seldom saw from him, and while she did not follow all the particulars of what he said, she thoroughly enjoyed hearing him go on so cleverly.

Once again, the ride back to Pemberley ended too soon for Mrs. Reynolds. She had much to attend to in the house. The servants worked doubly hard on Saturdays so that Sunday could be their day of rest. One of the day’s tasks was the beating of the carpets, and as the carriage approached, a few menservants were carrying them back indoors. Mrs. Reynolds was pleased to see it, but then she spied Martha hastily running back to the laundry lines. Evidently, she had noticed Mrs. Reynolds in time to escape anything incriminating.

"Bring the parcels in to the kitchen," she told Joseph, "and tell the cooks I will be there shortly. I want to check on the laundry lines."

Martha was prepared for Mrs. Reynolds; she curtsied dutifully and pointed to the dry sheets and clothing in the basket. "It’s warmer today, ma’am, but most of the wash is still wet."

"Well, take the dry things into my workroom to fold them. Polly and Cora should be there. They might need help with the mending."

The command had come from a few days' careful deliberation. By varying the usual division of labor so that Martha mixed more with the female staff, Mrs. Reynolds hoped she could improve the girl. Polly and Cora were exemplary maids, well-mannered and genuinely devoted to their mistresses.

Martha followed her into the workroom. Polly and Cora rose and curtsied when she entered.

"Martha will be joining you girls today. Cora, you will help Martha with the folding, and then she will help you mend the stockings." Cora nodded and smiled gingerly at Martha.

"Shouldn't I help also, ma'am?" asked Polly.

"No, no. Continue with the lace trimming. That requires concentration."

The girls sat down and set themselves to their tasks. Polly smiled broadly at Martha and Mrs. Reynolds felt all the more assured of the success of her plan. Polly and Martha had joined the staff within two weeks of each other, but the former's diligence and friendly disposition had earned Mrs. Reynolds' satisfaction to the same degree that the latter's weak performance had garnered its opposite.

She paused a moment before leaving the maids to admire Polly’s work. "Ah, lace work. How I miss it!" she murmured a little enviously. She gathered Mrs. Darcy's commissions from the fabric shop and left in search of her.

She stopped briefly in the kitchen where she was regaled by the sweet smell of freshly baking bread mixed with the aromas of hearty soups and stews. The staff was in a frenzy of activity. Bridget the scullery maid was scurrying about to comply with the cooks' directions, Constance was slicing vegetables with sure-handed speed, and Mr. Olivierre was examining the meats Mrs. Reynolds had just purchased. He greeted her enthusiastically.

"C'est magnifique! Excellent choices! This will make a delicious roast in honor of our guest."

Mrs. Reynolds received his thanks with pride; everyone knew that the French had turned cooking into a science. Quick to return the compliment, she said, "It smells in here as though you've been working quite hard to honor him already."

"Tomato soup, English style," Constance informed her. "Mr. Bennet’s favorite. And we will not starve either." She lifted uncovered a pot of stew for Mrs. Reynolds smiled at her with an appreciative, "Mmm."

"Perhaps you can send in a boy to carry the meats into the larder?" asked Mr. Olivierre. "I think they are too heavy for Bridget."

"I will send Joseph in directly. Do not forget to save me all the fat you can spare for soap and candles."

She met Joseph outside the study, just dismissed from the Darcys after bringing them their cards and letters.

"Please remove your jacket and go help carry the meats."

He nodded and whispered, "I had to give the master everything, Mother, including the receipts."

Mrs. Reynolds' confidence plummeted. She would now have to account for the receipts without her son's help and this would risk the exposure of a secret of hers. Her eyesight was weakening and she could not bring herself to purchase spectacles. She chided herself for her vanity; she knew she had never been handsome, but she had always been exceptionally healthy and strong, and this was a most unwelcome reminder of her age. Joseph, in helping her, knew what was amiss, but his deference for his mother kept him from mentioning it in any direct way. She knocked on the study door in dread.

"I have the finished curtains and some swatches for Mrs. Darcy," she said curtsying. "Should I return later?"

"Oh, no, I am perfectly at my leisure," replied the mistress pleasantly.

"But before you begin, Mrs. Reynolds, could you please explain the various purchases on this receipt?" asked Mr. Darcy.

Mrs. Reynolds steeled herself as the master handed her the long receipt from the fabric shop. The print was too small for her, but she held the paper as if reading it, and relying entirely on memory, enumerated the day’s purchases, explaining which were Pemberley's expenses, which belonged to the servants, and whose wages must be adjusted accordingly. Mrs. Reynolds was much relieved that her memory at least was intact enough to save her from the appearance of incompetence before the Darcys.

Her concealment successful, she soon recovered herself and remembered the message from Mrs. Quinn. "I have news of a Sir Harrington, sir. His father owned Dovedale years ago and was acquainted with your father, may he rest in peace. Young Sir Harrington is now seeking property in Derbyshire and is staying at Lambton Inn."

The name "Harrington" barely elicited a reaction, but as soon as Mrs. Reynolds had mentioned the inn, husband and wife glanced at each other shyly, even sadly, as though sharing some bittersweet recollections. Mrs. Reynolds instantly understood that whatever it meant, it was none of her concern, so she curtsied and again suggested, "Should I return with the swatches later, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Oh, no, I am perfectly at my leisure," the mistress repeated, rebounding with a glowing smile at her husband. He returned it in his more subdued way, but behind it lay a depth of emotion which Mrs. Reynolds could not fail to notice. She was quite moved by it, and happy for the young couple, but embarrassed at having witnessed such a private moment. As she followed the mistress to another room, she resolved to put the exchange out of her mind. Mrs. Quinn might wish to credit herself for the feelings that had developed between the Darcys in Lambton Inn, but Mrs. Reynolds would not presume to conjecture about them.

But there was one quarter in which Mrs. Reynolds would permit herself more familiarity than was normally expected between masters and servants, and that was where Miss Darcy was concerned. It seemed to her that Darcys should be told of Miss Georgiana's retreat into her late father's room, and the present interview with the mistress, less formal than the daily ones in which they discussed the housekeeping, was opportune for mentioning so delicate a subject.

When the master brought Miss Darcy home from Ramsgate nearly two years ago, Mrs. Reynolds was the only trusted female figure in her life. Brother and sister loved each other dearly, but neither felt at ease in discussing matters of courtship, so it fell to her to console Miss Darcy. Since then she was firmly convinced that the entire incident might have been prevented if Miss Darcy had had a sister, someone close to her own age and station in whom she confide the secrets of her heart. Now at last Miss Darcy had a sister, and the attachment between them was exactly what Mrs. Reynolds had hoped to see. The mistress would know precisely how to treat the present matter.

In describing the scene, Mrs. Reynolds was careful to omit any mention of Mr. Bennet. There was no need to embarrass Mrs. Darcy for her father's indiscretion; she had been present when he made his unfortunate joke. Mrs. Reynolds' sole object in this discussion was to convey the extent of Miss Darcy's distress. That she seemed to have sought to exasperate herself as much as possible with young Wickham's image was worrisome indeed.

Mrs. Darcy was duly grieved on hearing it. "I thank you for telling me, Mrs. Reynolds. I am sure the memory of the late Mr. Darcy would not be tarnished by a slight alteration to his room. But I wonder . . ." she looked at Mrs. Reynolds as if struck by a new idea, "Yes, perhaps you are the very person to advise us. Mr. Darcy received a letter from his cousin, the Colonel - he will join us for dinner Monday night - and he also asked - well, pleaded really - that Miss Darcy accompany him to Rosings for Easter. He presented it as a means to achieve peace between Lady De Bourgh and ourselves, but Mr. Darcy refuses to involve Georgiana in the quarrel. I agree with him on that head, but what you have told me indicates that perhaps a change of scene might do Miss Darcy some good."

Any reluctance Mrs. Reynolds might have felt at mentioning a more personal matter was fully vindicated by the request; she was honored that Mrs. Darcy valued her opinion on matters other than housekeeping. She answered in the honest vein in which the discussion had begun, "Well, madam, Lady De Bourgh is -"

The mistress spared her from saying it, "The Colonel assures us he can distract Lady De Bourgh from questioning Georgiana." The mistress giggled mischievously. "He has an ingenious plan. He will ask her advice about a young lady he has met."

"Clever lad! That will occupy her!" Mrs. Reynolds blurted out, and before she could apologize, she and Mrs. Darcy were laughing heartily.

Through it all, though, Mrs. Reynolds could not help but wonder if the Colonel had a specific young lady in mind. She had known him since he was a little boy, the favorite playmate of Master William, and she had watched the cousins grow into respectable gentlemen. Mrs. Reynolds dearly wished to see the Colonel rewarded with a happy marriage as his cousin had been, but she felt certain the story must be a ruse. He was not likely to seek Lady De Bourgh's counsel on any matter, and certainly not one of this nature.

Remembering that Mrs. Darcy had not asked her opinion on the Colonel's affairs, but on sending Miss Darcy to Kent, she replied, "The Colonel a good man, madam. I am certain he can protect and entertain Miss Darcy very well. I see nothing wrong in the visit, if she wishes it."

"We have not yet asked her. Mr. Darcy is adamantly opposed, but I suspect the Colonel will prevail by appealing to his sympathy." Mrs. Reynolds smothered another laugh, for she comprehended Mrs. Darcy's implication. Without Georgiana at Rosings with him, the Colonel was assured of thorough and intense boredom.

Mrs. Darcy's examined her new nursery curtains. "If we do send Miss Darcy," she said brightly, "perhaps she can convey a gift from me. My dear friend is married to Lady De Bourgh's vicar. I have not seen her since my wedding, and she has just had a baby girl. This fabric would make a pretty baby dress, don't you think?"

"Perhaps you might want to see the calico I've just purchased for my granddaughter. It is not as fine as this, but it would be very sweet on a baby girl."

"Yes, I would like to see it."

Mrs. Reynolds rushed back to her workroom to get it for Mrs. Darcy, but by the time she returned, Mr. Bennet had joined his daughter.

"The fabric, madam," said Mrs. Reynolds, curtsying stiffly.

Mrs. Darcy took it from her. "Oh, yes, it is very sweet. I think Georgiana and I will enjoy an outing to Lambton to purchase it ourselves. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds." The warmth in her eyes told Mrs. Reynolds that the mistress was thanking her for much more than the fabric.

"Do you like this, Papa? I think I will have a gift made for Charlotte's baby and send it through a messenger."

"I am glad you have a liaison, my dear, although I could have brought it to the Lucases for you. I do not mind interfering in a vicar's duty in executing the grudges of his patroness."

Mrs. Darcy laughed, "You are too kind, sir, but I am afraid you will have left by the time it is finished." Turning to Mrs. Reynolds, she explained, "My father leaves us on Tuesday."

"And so I will take the present opportunity to thank you for helping my daughter acclimate to her new responsibilities. The household of her upbringing is very different than this one. She tells me your advice and assistance have been invaluable."

"Th -thank you, sir," stammered Mrs. Reynolds, utterly astonished at receiving a compliment from the eccentric gentleman.

Mr. Bennet seemed more amused than insulted by her reaction, and laughingly added, "Mrs. Reynolds, please do not look at me so reproachfully. If I do say so myself, I improve on acquaintance."

She was too disconcerted to make any reply.

Mrs. Darcy moved close to Mrs. Reynolds and whispered desperately, "Please do not be offended. He means to ridicule himself. He respects you very much. He would never say so otherwise." She placed the fabric into Mrs. Reynolds' hands with a gentle squeeze. In a louder voice the mistress added, "Could you send in some tea - earl grey for my father and raspberry for me?"

"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Reynolds with a curtsy. She walked out composedly, but seethed inwardly. "Only for her sake," she thought as she searched for a footman to see to the tea, "will I endeavor to tolerate him. All his praise of me originates with her, and he could not even speak it without taunting me. I, looking at him reproachfully, indeed!"

She stormed back to her workroom and paused at the door to hear how Polly and Cora were faring with Martha. The three maids were busy in girlish chatter.

"Can you make a lace wedding dress?" came Martha's voice.

"Oh, no. I do some trimming, but a whole lace dress could take months! It would be foolish to delay marriage for the sake of a dress," answered Polly.

"No it isn’t. You want to look your best," Martha retorted.

This comment gave Mrs. Reynolds precious little encouragement. It was a relief to know at least that Martha thought about weddings, but she showed no appreciation for the seriousness and sanctity of marriage.

"I hope you will be the first among us to marry," Cora told her sister.

"Ellen and Nancy are both older than I am," Polly protested, "And so is Constance, but she - "

"Who'd want ornery, old Constance?" scoffed Martha.

"Hush! Do not talk so!" cried Cora.

"Martha, be fair," said Polly. "Constance has a kind heart, and I daresay she had opportunity to marry at some time or other. If she has waited this long, it must be that she does not want to be married."

"Well," Martha replied, "if she ever did have a chance, it were with some ordinary servant or farmer. You'll get someone better, like a house steward."

Mrs. Reynolds entered the workroom, and the three girls stood and curtsied.

"We have finished the stockings, ma'am," Cora showed her.

"The folding, too, I see. Good work, all of you. Now put it away. Soon it will be time for our dinner. Wait, Polly, I want to look at the lace."

Cora and Martha went upstairs with the basket of clothing and Polly held the lace out for Mrs. Reynolds. The lace had been a pretense; her real intent was to ask Polly about Martha, but she strained her eyes to examine the stitching and then declared, "Excellent work. Did all go well for you girls today? Was Martha a help to you?"

"Yes, ma’am."

"Good. Would it bother you to befriend her in your leisure, as well? She is not as educated as you or Cora, but she sorely needs your influence."

"I would be happy to, ma'am."

"Excellent." She turned to the remaining parcel from Mrs. Sonnley's shop. "Here is the fabric you wanted - good for a new apron. And here is some extra trimming besides. You are dismissed."

Polly's eyes widened with pleasure. "Thank you, ma’am!"

"Thank you, Polly."

Polly complied with Mrs. Reynolds' request with a zeal that was well beyond Mrs. Reynolds' expectations. She began by sitting beside Martha at the next meal and introduced the topic of sewing amongst the girls. She and Nancy were the only two who had asked for anything from Mrs. Sonnley's shop, and after Nancy described her plans for a new Sunday bonnet, Polly related her own.

"My former mistress gave me a dress stained with wine, and I was planning on covering it with an apron, but now I've decided to add ruffle and embroidery, and I think I'll be able to wear it on special occasions. The dress itself is real silk."

"It does not seem honest that you did not tell her that you could repair the dress," Nancy said. "Perhaps she might have kept it for herself."

"I doubt it. She was always having new dresses made."

"You would tell Mrs. Darcy."

"If Lady Smalling had treated me the way Mrs. Darcy does, perhaps I would have told her. But it is difficult to serve someone with your best effort when you know you will be reprimanded nonetheless."

"You must wear it to our next dance," suggested Cora. Most estates organized occasional dances for their servants, but because of the long-standing close relations between Pemberley and Matlock, and the liberality both houses liked to exert, servants' dances came to be held jointly. Other estates later joined in the custom, and now Derbyshire servants were treated to dances more frequently than most of their contemporaries.

"Not if it's at Bradwell, you shouldn't. From what I hear, your Lady Smalling will not like seeing her finery on the maid who quit her for Pemberley," warned Constance.

"She did give it willingly," said Polly, slightly affronted. Constance shrugged.

The other maids began questioning Mrs. Reynolds excitedly, "When will we have our next dance? Might we have one for Easter?"

Mrs. Reynolds chuckled and said, "It would be nice, when the weather warms up a bit."

"Well, if you ask me," said Nancy, "it is very unkind of Mrs. Quinn not to offer Lambton Inn to us. If the gentry can host us, so can she."

"And then the soldiers could be there," said Martha. The other maids looked at her sternly. They had all received many a warning to stay away from the soldiers.

Constance smiled smugly, "What say you to that, Mrs. Reynolds?"

Mrs. Reynolds surprised them all with her reply. "I would permit soldiers at a dance if a married officer would chaperone. Some soldiers are fine lads that any of you would do well to meet and marry." She glanced briefly at the menservants' table. The lads were more absorbed in their meal than they were in the maids' conversation. She looked around at the girls and lowered her voice, "But life is hard for soldiers' wives. I would prefer to see you girls marry other household servants, and attach yourselves to the benefits an estate like Pemberley can offer."

A few of the girls glanced slyly at the menservants' table, Martha most conspicuous among them. Quietly but firmly, Mrs. Reynolds added, mostly for her benefit, "But before you form any attachments, be absolutely certain that the young man is honorable."

Chapter 4

Posted Sunday, 7 November 2004

Polly's attention to Martha continued on Sunday at church and at all the subsequent meals. She also complimented Martha's hair and employed her as a model so that she and Cora could practice hairdressing on her. Martha, who had probably never known such attention in her life, began following her benefactress with an almost childish attachment. Mrs. Reynolds then grew worried about overtaxing Polly, and decided that Nancy could share some of the burden. Nancy was more reserved than Polly, but she was a steady worker who might also prove to be a valuable influence. Enlisting Martha's help in soap making seemed a favorable way to put the two maids together, and as Mrs. Reynolds had hoped, crisp and clear weather the following Monday provided ideal conditions for the task, so she set the ambitious goal of producing enough that day, along with the current supply in storage, to last Pemberley until autumn.

Nancy spent her morning leaching wood to make lye, and after Mrs. Reynolds had discharged her own morning duties, she went into the storage room to collect the other ingredients. Fat was the most important, and while the girls built the fires outdoors, she donned immaculate work gloves, meticulously laundered for this purpose, and separated the fat, reserving the best to become soap for the Darcy family's personal use. Most of the remainder would become soap for household needs and some would be made into candles.

Next she shed her gloves and headed toward the large glass jugs which contained the aromatic waters which would scent the Darcys' soap and whose production she oversaw throughout the spring and summer each year. Mrs. Reynolds savored the sweet fragrance of the rose water as she poured some into a large vial, and fondly remembered Lady Anne who once said she preferred Mrs. Reynolds' rose water to the imported perfumes of Paris. She poured a little spearmint water into a smaller vial for gentlemen's soap, and then lavender water into two others. The lavender would be for the two maids. If Martha was truly mending her ways, it behooved Mrs. Reynolds to reward her.

When Mrs. Reynolds joined the girls outdoors, two menservants were helping them lug buckets of water from the well and fill three pots already perched over blazing fires on the outdoor hearths. Mrs. Reynolds dismissed the lads and looked inside the two smaller pots. The water was already bubbling to a hard boil. "How many buckets went into these?"

"Five, each," Nancy answered.

She calculated the amount of lye necessary and had Nancy measure and pour in the solution. She added the fat, and the mixture sizzled and steamed up instantly. Mrs. Reynolds and Nancy began stirring vigorously and Martha quickly followed.

"There," said Mrs. Reynolds, when the mixture had turned to a creamy consistency. "We shall stop." The girls wrinkled their noses from the odor.

"Now you know why we do this outdoors," said Nancy.

"I work outdoors ‘most every day. And I don't get to stand near a fire." said Martha. "I can't wait for summer," she finished with a sigh.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at them sternly, but made no comment. Instead she said, "We're ready for the molds. Be careful. You don’t want to burn yourselves." She and Nancy scooped up the liquid mixture into small buckets and filled the square molds Nancy had lined up on a work table. Martha promptly joined them and when they finished Mrs. Reynolds clucked her approval.

"Let them cool a little before we carry them in. You may warm yourselves by the fire."

The girls eagerly drew nearer the fire while Mrs. Reynolds counted the remaining empty molds for the next and largest batch. "I'm afraid this will not be enough. Go inside both of you, and bring out all we have. They’re on the top shelf on the far left in the stillroom."

Away ran the girls, happy to receive an indoor task, but when they did not return for some minutes, Mrs. Reynolds went after them. Before she had even entered the house, she heard a high-pitched squeal, and when she burst into the room, was met with Martha and Timothy standing very close together. Martha, who was holding several empty molds, let them clatter to the floor. Timothy remained the same, smirking smugly.

"What is he doing here?" Mrs. Reynolds bellowed.

"Umm. . . I . . . couldn’t reach the molds, ma'am," said Martha curtsying impetuously.

"And where is Nancy?!"

"Here I am, ma'am," came Nancy’s voice. She hastened back to the stillroom, curtsied, and explained, "There was a noise in one of the storage room and I thought raccoons had got in."

"Were there any? Did they get at anything?"

"Two, ma'am, but they didn't get at anything. I looked through all the storage rooms."

"Miraculous," she mumbled to herself. She turned to Timothy and snapped, "Don’t just stand there! Make yourself useful and carry the molds outside! And then - back to your own work!"

The lad complied immediately, glad to have escaped Mrs. Reynolds' wrath with so light a punishment as carrying empty soap molds. As soon as he was out of sight, Mrs. Reynolds said, "Now we will carry the filled molds back in here." The two girls followed her outdoors, and all conversation amongst them ceased. As they precariously carried the filled molds back into the stillroom, each was engrossed in private thoughts. Mrs. Reynolds was furious at the meeting between Martha and Timothy and was certain they had planned it secretly, Martha feared for her position, and Nancy worried that Mrs. Reynolds would suspect her of complicity.

With the filled molds in their proper places for cooling and storage, it was time for Mrs. Reynolds to add the fragrant waters. It was at this very point that she had hoped to present the girls with the lavender water. There could be no reward now, at least not for Martha. Indeed, Mrs. Reynolds was uncertain as to whether she should keep the girl on staff. She resolved to speak to Nancy for information before making any decision.

When they returned outdoors, the largest pot was boiling and they immediately added the ingredients. Stirring this pot took all their strength, and gave them an excuse not to talk. They were all anxious to finish quickly and worked in efficient but ominous silence. Martha dashed off as soon as she was dismissed. Mrs. Reynolds immediately began to question Nancy.

"Now, please tell me, what was Timothy doing in the stillroom?"

"Martha asked him in, ma'am, when I was shooing away the raccoons."

"And do you know why he was near the stillroom at that time?"

Nancy began fidgeting with her apron. "I don't know, ma'am."

Mrs. Reynolds took pity when she saw how much she was unnerving the poor girl. "Do not fret, child. You have done nothing wrong. Just please tell me this: do you think Martha and Timothy planned to meet each other there?"

"I suppose it is possible," Nancy faltered. "He was one of the ones who helped with the fires. Perhaps they talked about it when I was not listening."

"Thank you, Nancy. You have been very helpful."

Mrs. Reynolds reached into her pocket and handed the girl the two vials of lavender water. The reward brightened Nancy’s mood considerably, and Mrs. Reynolds was relieved to see it. At least there was some small source of happiness to be gleaned from the conversation; the next one she faced was with Mr. Hammond regarding Timothy, and that promised no joy whatsoever.

Mr. Hammond gave her a fresh source of suspicion that had not occurred to her. He attributed Timothy's presence in the stillroom to theft rather than lascivious behavior, and the two went immediately back to the storage room to check the wine stock. Mr. Hammond counted three bottles missing.

"Shall we search their quarters?" he asked grimly. With a twinge of guilt, she agreed. Joseph's voice echoed in her head, espousing ideals of rights and privacy.

The mens' quarters were on the same lowest level of the house as the storage and still rooms, so they went there first. Mr. Hammond methodically turned over the beds while Mrs. Reynolds searched dresser drawers. Most were unremarkable, but one contained lewd pictures which shocked her.

"This drawer, I assume, is Timothy's?" she asked, removing the pictures to burn them at the next opportunity. Mr. Hammond nodded and she continued rummaging through it. She found a surprisingly large sum of money in a sock and a worn deck of cards, which provided the explanation for the former. Cards were not forbidden to the staff, although clearly they could lead to abuse and vice.

Her findings in hand, she turned toward Mr. Hammond who was turning over the last of the beds, the one she knew to be Joseph’s. And there, underneath the bed frame, stood the three missing bottles of wine.

"Good G-d! It cannot be!" cried Mrs. Reynolds.

Mr. Hammond, in a rare gesture of intimacy, grasped her shoulders to calm her. "I am sure he is blameless. It is quite a cunning hiding place. The thief knew Joseph is beyond reproach."

Mrs. Reynolds lost her composure entirely. "Of course Joseph did not take them! Timothy was in the stillroom! He must be dismissed!" She was so enraged she wanted to cry. Character ought to be enough to exonerate Joseph, but the evidence incriminated him more strongly than it did Timothy. If Joseph went unpunished, the others would cry favoritism, and the punishment for theft was dismissal. The thief had hidden himself cleverly indeed.

"I think we should take this up with the master," said Mr. Hammond, desperate to reassure her. "You know he will treat the matter with justice." Mrs. Reynolds sighed in acquiescence. She and Mr. Hammond seldom found it necessary to go to Mr. Darcy with the discipline problems that arose amongst the staff, but in this instance, in which she could not be objective, it was necessary.

Every servant in the house knew about the stolen wine by their dinnertime, and the tension amongst them had never been worse. Joseph, however, bore it with amazing equanimity. As Mrs. Reynolds watched him calmly ignore the other menservants' jeers, she tried to be equally calm, but inwardly, grew increasingly agitated.

"Had to make up for those losses, eh Joseph?" chided Timothy.

Mrs. Reynolds started at his words.

"The game's up now. Even Mama knows it. You tricked 'em all but good." Timothy elbowed the lads beside him who joined him in a laugh. Mrs. Reynolds took a bite of stew to keep herself from reacting, but feared that at any moment, she would lose control and have to flee the table to hide her tears. Constance saw her plight and took up Joseph’' cause in her stead.

"Shut your bleedin' mouths. We all know Timothy's the biggest trickster among us. Or perhaps not. Annoy me just enough and you'll find something in your supper that will lay you up with a sour stomach for days. Don't think I wouldn’t do it."

The lads did not doubt her, and were effectively silenced.

"Her bearishness has its advantages," thought Mrs. Reynolds, who knew perfectly well that Constance would never do as she had threatened.

The meeting with Mr. Darcy took place that evening, attended by Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Hammond, Timothy, Joseph, Martha, and Nancy. It was a brief meeting, for Mr. Darcy was wanted to entertain the visiting Colonel Fitzwilliam, but as Mr. Hammond had predicted, the master treated the matter with justice, if not charity. He declared himself convinced of Joseph's innocence, which was a consolation to Mrs. Reynolds and not wholly unexpected either, but he also said that he could come to no fair conclusion about Timothy. When found in the stillroom, he had been, after all, helping the maids with their work. The punishment he recommended was that all four lower servants be scrutinized for the next three months, and if any of them was found deficient in any way, he or she must be dismissed. There would be no fine for the cost of the stolen wine, for its value would have exhausted their wages, and the bottles had been recovered in any case. All were also forbidden from going on any outings for the duration of their probation.

Mrs. Reynolds' heart sank as Mr. Darcy pronounced the final punishment, and Joseph, who had shown such fortitude through the whole ordeal, now looked stricken. This would prevent him from attending the upcoming university entrance examinations.

As fervently as she might have wished it, Mrs. Reynolds would not dare to contradict the master, but their eyes did meet, and he looked at her imploringly as if to say, "This is the justice my revered father taught me. I cannot allow the crime to go unpunished. Joseph will have another chance." Hurt as she felt, she was thus assured that the master would not abandon Joseph.

But then Nancy caught her eye. She could speak on Nancy's behalf without any perception of favoritism from the other staff.

"If you please, sir," she began, curtsying, "Nancy has had keys to the storage and stillrooms almost as long as she has been on staff. Nothing has ever gone missing before, and she was doing her duty in the storage room, protecting the stock from raccoons."

"Then Nancy should have nothing to fear in this period of probation," said Mr. Darcy. He dismissed them and quit the room. Mr. Hammond led Timothy out, demonstrating already how closely he intended to watch the lad, and Joseph nodded to his mother to let her know he would be studying in her room as usual. Mrs. Reynolds' eye followed him with fondness, for the tensions of the day left her with no desire for anyone's society but his. Martha seized that moment to run past Mrs. Reynolds without a word, and that left Nancy, who curtsied and thanked Mrs. Reynolds for speaking on her behalf.

"Oh, my dear," sighed Mrs. Reynolds. "I am so sorry it has come to this. My intent was that you should influence Martha. I never dreamed that she might somehow implicate you in her mischief. But do take heart in what the master said. It is only three months - you will probably miss only one dance - and when it is over, I promise I will make it up to you."

Quietly, Nancy said, "Then you understand, ma'am, that I wish never to work alongside Martha again."

Mrs. Reynolds promised and dismissed the girl. Polly had meanwhile come to speak to her as well, and she suspected it was with the very same request.

"I have just spoken to Martha, ma'am," she said with a nervous curtsy. "She insists she was doing nothing but working, but she understands why it might have appeared otherwise. She is grateful you are giving her another chance, and if she were not so frightened, she would thank you herself."

"It is kind of you to speak for her in this way," said Mrs. Reynolds, doubting that any of the sentiments Polly had ascribed to Martha were accurate, other than fear.

"You asked me to befriend her, ma’am, and I do believe I can be of use."

"Are you certain it will not be too much for you? Nancy is now on three month's probation because of this."

"I am not worried."

"And what about your duties to Mrs. Darcy?"

"Mrs. Darcy is the kindest mistress who ever lived. I could never neglect her, and I still have time for Martha in my leisure."

"Very well, but I want you to understand this: if I ever catch Martha and Timothy in the fact, I will dismiss them both without a character. And if that should happen, you must not regard it as a failure on your part."

"Yes, ma'am. Oh, thank you, ma'am. You will not be disappointed." She curtsied and ran back to her quarters.

Now alone, Mrs. Reynolds could at last retire to her own quarters and speak to Joseph. Timothy's allusion to Joseph's "losses" at dinner had piqued her, and she had been longing since then to understand the meaning of it. She entered her room wearily and smiled to see how Joseph had prepared for her. A threaded needle lay alongside the calico baby dress she had started to make. She sat down and looked at him piteously, yet even before him, she dared not cry.

"All will be well, Mother, you will see. There will be more entrance examinations in a few months."

"My dearest boy, you are too good. That Timothy has used you abominably!"

Joseph acknowledged this with a resigned nod. "I daresay we will have justice yet. Timothy cannot last much longer here. He will not survive his probation."

She picked up her needle and sewed a few stitches. He soon gratified her by speaking more.

"I deliberately lost to him at cards, Mother."

"But why?"

"I was tired of all his boasting, and I thought I might distract him and keep him away - "

"From the maids?"

He nodded. "Joseph, you must stop that at once. It only increases his appetite for other vices, and has no effect in keeping him away from the maids. You see how he and Martha were together this afternoon."

"I doubt she's a thief. A bit foolish perhaps."

Mrs. Reynolds sarcastically echoed his "perhaps" and added, "She will probably not survive her probation either. Why, just two days ago, I asked Polly to befriend her in hope of influencing her. Now it seems all in vain."

Joseph's face suddenly brightened. "Was that your idea? I did notice it." He hastily returned to his book. "Polly is a good girl, Mother. She might just succeed with her."

The fleeting changes in her son's demeanor startled Mrs. Reynolds. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but there was no other way of accounting for it, or for his sudden interest in protecting the maids, than supposing a partiality to Polly. The notion gave her unexpected comfort. She had never seen him in love before, and sometimes worried that all the alertness of his mind was somehow at the expense of his heart. Perhaps this delay in his plans for university would see him quite attached or perhaps even engaged. But it was not her wish to force his communication; she had seen something to interest, but nothing to justify inquiry, so she took up her sewing and allowed him to study in silence. Within minutes, however, she found she could not concentrate and left him alone to seek another means of soothing herself.

Although it was a breach of her routine, she ascended the stairs to the gallery, and lit a fire and candles there. Miss Darcy was playing a long recital for the visiting Colonel Fitzwilliam in her sitting room and had just begun a slow, contemplative piece that suited Mrs. Reynolds' mood perfectly. With the doors open, the music resounded throughout the gallery, and Mrs. Reynolds let it uplift her until she worried no more. The melody grew steadily more complex, and Mrs. Reynolds felt like swaying to it, but instead took up a dustcloth and wiped the portrait frames rhythmically. With some final slow chords, Miss Darcy finished the piece, and faster, brighter pieces followed. Mrs. Reynolds' spirits lightened along with them and soon she was filled with the urge to skip or jump, but she was far to self-conscious to do so, even while alone. She was happier, though, and remained there listening for a long time, even as the candles flickered and the room grew dim. When all but one had extinguished themselves, she lifted up the last and used it to guide herself back downstairs.

Chapter 5

Posted on Sunday, 14 November 2004

Mr. Bennet was expected to leave Pemberley on Tuesday, so the Darcys accepted several invitations away from home that week, the first of which was a concert at Lambton Inn. Miss Darcy, who otherwise shied from society, showed great interest in attending the concert, but would only do so in the company of her family and governess. Mr. Bennet was persuaded on to delay his departure in favor of the concert, so he joined the party as well. It was at that event that the Darcys were introduced to Mrs. Quinn’s eminent guest Sir Albert Harrington, the son of the contessa, and they engaged him for dinner at Pemberley for two nights later.

The Darcys requested Italian cuisine in their guest’s honor much to the delight of Mr. Olivierre, who relished every opportunity to cook in European style. He spent the following day in zealous preparation, and his exacting demands in the undertaking disgruntled his kitchen staff. Constance complained when Mrs. Reynolds made her rounds to the kitchen.

“Beat the eggs this way,” mimicked Constance, motioning in the air. “My goodness, he acts as though I’d never made noodles before.”

“Be glad he didn’t ask us to cut them,” said Bridget. “Whoever saw noodles so thin?”

Constance scoffed. “Foolishness. The mistress won’t touch a morsel, I am sure of it. She hardly eats anything, except for the plain baked eggs I make her. She prefers an English cook, but I suppose the master needs a foreign one for his town friends.”

“And this is all for tomorrow night,” said Bridget. “We have not done a thing for tonight’s dinner.”

“The Darcys will dine with friends tonight,” Mrs. Reynolds informed her. “Mr. Oliver knows he needs to make only a small repast for Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley.”

“That is Olivierre, Mrs. Reynolds,” corrected the head cook as he walked in. “And Mrs. Darcy has just told me that her father will take dinner with Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley tonight.” He tasted one of his sauces, smiled, and gave a few orders to Bridget.

Mrs. Reynolds thought it strange that Mr. Bennet would delay his departure another day only to remain at Pemberley alone with Miss Darcy, but then, he was a strange man. She felt compelled to protect Miss Darcy from him, and an hour before dinner was to be served, she spoke to Miss Darcy in her sitting room.

“Perhaps you and Mrs. Annesley would like your dinner brought up here?” suggested Mrs. Reynolds. “Mr. Bennet, I am sure, will not mind the solitude.”

Miss Darcy looked up from her drawing and smiled. “There is no need to alter anything. I would not wish to be uncivil, and I know now that I have nothing to fear in Mr. Bennet.”

“As you wish, Miss.”

“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Reynolds, but truly, it is not necessary. Indeed, I find him quite diverting sometimes. You should have heard him spar with Cousin Richard. Dear Richard! I should not even fear Aunt Catherine in his company.”

“Will you be disappointed then, Miss, if you may not visit Kent?”

“Perhaps a little, but I agree of course that my aunt has treated Elizabeth wretchedly.”

Mrs. Reynolds took a few steps closer to admire Miss Darcy’s drawing.

“Even if I had the greatest art masters in the world to instruct me, Miss Darcy, I could never learn to draw like that.”

“Why, of course you could!” said Miss Darcy earnestly. “Everything I know of needlework I learned from you.”

“Oh, that’s entirely different.”

“I assure you it is not. The materials are different, but both fundamentally depend on an appreciation of texture and an understanding of how to blend color. They are both forms of art, only one has practical use, and the other is for display.”

“You are very sweet, Miss Georgiana,” said Mrs. Reynolds, flattered by the affection so strong that would give rise to the unlikely comparison of needlework to art. “Are you ready for Cora, then?”

“She may go to Mrs. Annesley first. I would like to finish this,” and she continued with her drawing.

After returning downstairs and dispatching Cora, Mrs. Reynolds entered the dining parlor to check on the footmen’s progress there. All was well, but she overheard a man’s voice in the late master’s sitting room.

“Martha and Timothy again!” she thought, and burst into the room with all due urgency.

“Oh!” she cried in embarrassed surprise, finding Mr. Bennet and Mr. Hammond in the room.

Seemingly unaffected by her abrupt entrance, Mr. Hammond explained, “Ah, Mrs. Reynolds! I was just showing Mr. Bennet this room again, but since you know the paintings here better than I, I leave him in your capable hands.”

When they were alone, Mr. Bennet smiled at her congenially.
“I remember seeing a set of drawings of the passing seasons with a few lines of Thomson beneath each. I wanted to examine them again.”

“Miss Darcy was but a child when she drew those, sir,” said Mrs. Reynolds, walking over to them. She paused to admire them herself and instinctively recited the verse, “From brightening fields of earth fair-disclos’d, Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes.”

Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Surely I can forgive a small error from a precocious child, but it is ether fair-disclos’d.” Then, stepping closer to the drawing he said, “Oh, no, she did write it correctly, you see.” He gestured to urge Mrs. Reynolds to look more closely.

The black writing swirled meaninglessly before her eyes.

“Here,” said Mr. Bennet, handing her his spectacles.

With great timidity, Mrs. Reynolds put them on. The writing was now substantially clearer. She had never so fully appreciated how much she had been missing.

“Yes, I see,” she said softly, and then turned and handed back the spectacles. Mr. Bennet received them with a kind smile that bore no trace of mockery. At that moment, Mrs. Reynolds’ feelings toward him softened though she could not feel entirely at ease with him. Although he might at times refrain from exercising his acerbic wit at the foibles he perceived in those around them, it was evident that he was always awake to them.

Mr. Bennet left Pemberley the next day, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy insisted on escorting him in their barouche for a small part of his journey. They were absent well into the afternoon. Mrs. Reynolds was looking over Ellen’s work on the apartment Mr. Bennet had occupied when she was called downstairs. Sir Albert Harrington had arrived early.

If his early arrival surprised Mrs. Reynolds, his demeanor utterly confused her. Like a foreigner, he wore a beard and had a dark complexion, but his speech and manners were like that of any English gentleman. He apologized for any inconvenience; he had hoped to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Reynolds could not tell him when the master would return, but offered to show him Pemberley while he waited. Sir Albert responded with alacrity.

Of Mrs. Reynolds’ many responsibilities, her greatest pleasure came in showing the house to visitors. She took as much pride in the house as did the owners themselves, for its maintenance was largely a reflection of her efforts. She first showed him some of the downstairs rooms: the salon, the library, the dining parlor, the ballroom, and the conservatory. She related the subjects of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture to a keen audience. Sir Albert was knowledgeable about fine furnishings and his questions encouraged her communicativeness. She then brought him up to the gallery to show him the portraits and pointed out the new one of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. “They are newly married.” she explained, “It is a very recent addition.”

“Superb craftsmanship,” commented Sir Albert, “The eyes on Mrs. Darcy are unusually expressive.” He drew close to it to read the signature.

“Mr. Darcy was very selective when he chose the artist,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

“It appears that Mr. Darcy is very selective about everything at Pemberley.”

Hearing Mr. Darcy’s tastes praised put Mrs. Reynolds in good spirits. She began to speak in even greater detail. She led him through the hallway, past Miss Darcy’s sitting room, where she was practicing the same piece of music Mrs. Reynolds had heard from the gallery a few nights before. Sir Albert paused to listen.

“Pardon me,” he said in a hushed tone, “but you gave me to understand that Mrs. Darcy is also away from home.”

“That is the master’s sister, the young Miss Darcy, sir.”

He was silent for a few moments. Mrs. Reynolds had never heard of an English gentleman to be so attentive to art or music, so she judged that it must have been more acceptable amongst foreigners. She saw that he was listening to Miss Darcy with more than enjoyment, but with an appreciation born of knowledge. Strange as Sir Albert seemed to her, Mrs. Reynolds knew that his good opinion was worth something. She began to speak effusively.

“I have been at Pemberley five-and-twenty years, sir. I have seen many parties and many ladies eager to display their accomplishments. Some of them were from families who spared no expense on their daughters’ refinement. Not one of them could play and sing as sweetly as Miss Darcy.”

“Indeed,” said Sir Albert, still very quietly, “To play music well, which is to say, to convey real feeling, requires something more than a competent master.”

“If you please, sir, I will take you to the gallery again where you can see some of Miss Darcy’s drawings.”

Sir Albert nodded politely and followed her. “She did this one when she first began drawing,” said Mrs. Reynolds. He seemed drawn to the more recent ones. “That is the view from Miss Darcy’s sitting room,” Mrs. Reynolds informed him.

The music, fully audible from where they were standing, changed. Miss Darcy was singing this time. Sir Albert turned and exclaimed, “She speaks Italian! When she finishes, you must introduce me.”

Mrs. Reynolds knew how much Miss Darcy would be discomfited by such an introduction, but it was impossible to politely refuse the gentleman. The song was shorter than the preceding piece, and when Miss Darcy finished, Mrs. Annesley answered the knock at the door.

“Bella! Suona molto bene! Dove hai imparato Italiano?”

Miss Darcy looked anxiously from Mrs. Annesley to Mrs. Reynolds. She was too fluttered to speak, so Mrs. Annesley spoke for her.

“Good afternoon, Sir. I am Mrs. Annesley, Miss Darcy’s governess. We were introduced at the concert in Lambton, you may recall. Miss Darcy and I have not studied much conversational Italian, I am afraid.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Annesley. Mrs. Quinn introduced me to more people that night than I can possibly remember.” He turned and bowed to Miss Darcy. He could see she was disconcerted, but he could not understand why. He had not thought himself discourteous in any way. “Excuse me for disturbing you, Miss Darcy. You play very well, and your Italian accent is perfect.”

“Miss Darcy does have a facility with languages,” Mrs. Annesley answered. “Her accent comes from imitating her music master.”

“And what an exquisite instrument!” said Sir Albert, looking past them and moving closer to examine it. He surprised everyone else by playing a few notes himself. “It must be a pleasure to play,” he said, smiling at Miss Darcy. She nodded shyly.

“Mr. Darcy purchased it for his sister last summer, sir,” explained Mrs. Reynolds.

“Ah, Sir Albert! We are very pleased you could come.” Mrs. Darcy entered the room, followed by Polly.

“Mrs. Darcy,” he bowed.

“Mrs. Reynolds has shown you Pemberley, I trust?”

“I would not have thought it possible, but it is even more magnificent than it is reputed to be.”

“Thank you, sir. Mrs. Reynolds, would you please announce Sir Albert to Mr. Darcy? He is in his study.” Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and led the gentleman downstairs.

After a long day of traveling, Mrs. Darcy needed rest, so the much anticipated dinner was served late. One result of this was that Cora had time to try a new hairstyle on Miss Darcy, and it became her very well. Her sister complimented her, and when the gentlemen joined them, Miss Darcy was flushed and smiling. Sir Albert could not help but notice this pleasant alteration in the young lady’s demeanor, but his prior encounter had taught him to approach her with far greater reserve. He bowed to both ladies and conversed mainly with Mr. Darcy during dinner.

Mrs. Reynolds found herself racked with curiosity about Sir Albert. Despite every principle she held dear about maintaining the Darcys’ privacy, she sought a pretense to enter the dining room, and sent a manservant to set up card tables in the salon. The Darcys were not fond of cards, but their guest might be, and when the bell sounded, Mrs. Reynolds was obliged to tell the Darcys about the card tables, and her little scheme was disguised as an act of hospitality. Sir Albert, however, made a different suggestion for the evening’s entertainment.

“The pianoforte in Miss Darcy’s room is a treasure!” he said. “Do I have permission to try it?” He looked at Mr. Darcy.

“That is Georgiana’s decision,” replied Mr. Darcy.

Miss Darcy colored and politely gave her consent.

“Thank you, Miss Darcy, and I hope you will honor us with a song as well.”

Miss Darcy blushed more deeply. She had performed for many friends and guests before, but the earnest request of this stranger unnerved her exceedingly. Mrs. Reynolds ached for her, and she blamed herself for having boasted.

The party ascended the stairs while most of the servants retreated to their dining hall. Sir Albert’s strong baritone voice resounded throughout the house.

“I’ve never heard of a gentleman who sings. I thought they just listen,” said Polly.

“What sort of words are those?” asked Ellen.

“Must be Italian,” said Constance. “His mother is an Italian contessa.”

Mrs. Reynolds could not bear the suspense. Constance read her face and smirked. “Why don’t you go to bed, Mrs. Reynolds?” she suggested pertly, “It has been a long day.”

Mrs. Reynolds waited in dread for Constance to laugh at her before the girls, but she did not. She could enjoy a joke at Mrs. Reynolds’ expense without making a sound.

When Mrs. Reynolds was well out of the sight of the other servants, she went upstairs to the gallery as she had a few nights before. She knew every inch of the house, and all the passages connecting the rooms. Although she had never availed herself of them, it was not difficult for her to determine which would be the best positions for safe eavesdropping and a clear view. “It is for Miss Georgiana’s welfare,” she told herself, but she still felt ashamed as she sat down and hid.

Sir Albert was finishing his song. Everyone applauded him, and turning to Miss Darcy, he said, “I would like to hear the owner herself play this excellent instrument. Shall we try a duet?” He got up from the bench and replaced it with two narrow chairs. Mrs. Reynolds understood from this that the gentleman intended for Miss Darcy to play, but not necessarily to sing. This would alleviate her anxiety somewhat, but she hesitated nonetheless.

“Please,” he said gallantly, gesturing for her to sit. It would have been uncivil to refuse, so she sat to the gentleman’s right.

“Do you know Mozart’s Sonata in C for four hands?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Good. I will play in the lower register. Have you ever played like this, with another person on the same instrument?”

“Sometimes, with my teacher,” she answered a little less shyly, “but not often.”

“I have confidence in you. Ready?”

She nodded, and they began to play. She played with her usual proficiency, and peering at her sideways, he began to increase the tempo. She kept up with him until the triumphant finale.

“Brava!” he said to her after everyone else had stopped clapping. “A piece of music does not have to be written for four hands for us to play it as such. We can be inventive.” He then ascertained other pieces she knew and they played them in the same manner. Mrs. Reynolds recognized some of them from Miss Darcy’s practicing, but they sounded different somehow. Then she realized that Sir Albert was inventing variations and Miss Darcy was following, though it took all her concentration. He was playing a sort of musical game with her, and she so delighted in it that she lost awareness of all else in the room. With her eyes fixed on the keys, a radiant smile diffused across her face. She could not have realized how much her own beauty blossomed forth at that moment, nor did she see the growing admiration of the gentleman beside her, or blessedly, her brother’s arrested expression.

The mistress had noticed it, however, and whispered something to her husband. Mrs. Reynolds longed to know what she said, but she was glad to see that when the duo had stopped playing, Mr. Darcy had successfully concealed his initial reaction from his sister.

For the rest of the evening, the conversation amongst the small party followed the normal rhythms of such gatherings. Sir Albert paid Miss Darcy some particular attention, inquiring about her musical education, but not an excessive amount, so that when they all retired for the night, it would seem to any outsider that nothing extraordinary had happened.

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