by Bray, Ayr
“That will not be necessary, Gracie. Simply lay out my nightgown, robe, and slippers. I will be able to undress myself. If I have trouble, Mr. Darcy will help me.”
“I certainly shall,” Fitzwilliam responded as he offered Elizabeth his arm.
Now it was Gracie’s turn to blush. She bowed her head low as her mistress left the room on the arm of the master.
The Darcys were the first below stairs. They took advantage of the lack of guests to meet with Mrs. Reynolds. Elizabeth was relieved when she was told that Mrs. Lacroix, Pemberley’s cook, had pulled off a lovely meal with such short notice.
Mid-discussion, all three jerked their heads towards the sound of shattering glass and screaming. The three instantly fled the room towards the staircase at the center of the manor. Fitzwilliam led the way, his long strides getting him there swiftly.
“It is your fault, Kitty. If you had not pushed me, none of this would have happened,” Mary accused her younger sister.
“Pushed you! Why, I did not push you. How dare you insinuate this mess is in any way my responsibility?”
“But it is. You are the one who came barreling out of your room and pushed me into the table.”
“Mary, I cannot believe that you, of all people, would resort to lying at a time such as this. Tell the truth.”
“That is the truth.”
“ENOUGH!” Fitzwilliam shouted over the noise of the arguing sisters. “Tell me what happened this instant.”
Both of the girls began speaking over one another. Each told their version of the events as their voices drowned each other out, until both were nearly shouting to be heard. Neither Elizabeth nor Fitzwilliam could make any sense out of their shouting. It was obvious both of them blamed the other and neither intended to accept responsibility.
“Mary, Kitty, lower your voices this instant. For heaven’s sake, are you infants to be squalling so?” Elizabeth’s scolding quieted Mary, but Kitty would not stop.
“But Elizabeth, it was not …,” Kitty protested, her voice still raised.
Fitzwilliam put up a hand to quiet her, but it did not work. His nerves were fraying, and he could see Mr. and Mrs. Bennet already hurrying from their room towards the congregated group. “SILENCE!” he shouted over Kitty’s ranting.
“What is the meaning of this?” exclaimed Mr. Bennet.
No one had time to explain before Mrs. Bennet’s fluttering and palpitations took over. “Dear lord, what happened here? I hope no one was hurt.” Her eyes darted here and there, seeing broken glass all over the table, floor, and staircase. There was spilled water with loose flowers lying scattered on the floor. “Oh my, did someone break a vase? Well, I suppose it does not matter all that much. Mr. Darcy has enough money to buy another vase, I would wager he could purchase a hundred more if he wanted. It does not signify much anyway. From the look of it, it was an old, ugly thing. I would never allow such a vase in my home, especially in a place of prominence such as the top of the stairs where everyone can see it. Oh, and just look at the rug! It will be ruined if it is not tended to immediately.”
Elizabeth was mortified by her mother for the second time that day, and it was only their second time in company. She dreaded the remainder of the holiday. It was almost a week before Christmas, and already she wished her mother had not come.
Fitzwilliam was already tired of Mrs. Bennet’s ramblings. “Mrs. Bennet, I thank you for your concern about my rug. Perhaps it would be best that you accompany Elizabeth to the sitting room while I have Mrs. Reynolds clean this up.” He motioned for Mrs. Reynolds to join them. She had taken a stance a few stairs below the top, out of the way of the family but close enough to be of service to Mr. and Mrs. Darcy when they needed her.
“Oh yes, Mr. Darcy, what a superb idea.” She began to leave, but nearly stepped on a piece of glass. Fitzwilliam leapt to her side and offered his arm.
“Here, Mrs. Bennet let me help you. You almost stepped on a piece of broken vase. I fear you will cut your foot.”
“Good Lord, did I truly almost cut it? Oh, that would have been terrible. I cannot imagine a cut foot at a time such as this. Why, in order to help you dear wife, I must be in the best of health. With a manor this size, with so many servants, I am sure she is quite overwhelmed. She will need me to help her decide what to serve and how best to entertain.”
She continued rambling as Fitzwilliam led her down the stairs. Mr. Bennet, Mary, and Kitty followed, leaving Jane and Charles, who had just arrived, with Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds to decide what best to do.
“Jane, will you and Charles please go down and entertain Mother? Fitzwilliam will then be able to come back here and help us with this.”
“Certainly, Lizzy, we will send him back straightaway.” Jane and Charles rushed down the stairs, careful to avoid the shattered glass.
“Mrs. Reynolds, was this vase valuable?” Elizabeth asked as the two started to gather the scattered flowers and larger chunks that were easy to pick up without being cut.
“Valuable? Well, as a matter of strictly financial value, no, it was not. However, it does have a more sentimental value to the family.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were large with apprehension. She sucked in a deep breath and was just about to inquire further when Fitzwilliam returned.
“Mrs. Reynolds, that is not the vase I think it is, is it?” His eyes were filled with concerned as he inquired.
“I am afraid so, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth was trembling as she heard her husband’s words. Her eyes darted back and forth between them and the scattered pieces. “Why is this vase so important?” Elizabeth could barely ask her question, for she feared the answer.
Fitzwilliam took Elizabeth’s hands in his and held them as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. “The vase was given to my mother, by my father, on the day of Georgiana’s birth. It is always filled with my mother’s favorite flowers.”
“Orchids?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper as she held up a cut orchid that she had picked up off the floor.
Fitzwilliam did not say a word; he simply nodded his head. “The vase is special to Georgiana because our mother died shortly after her birth. She does not remember Mother, and she was still quite young when our father died almost six years ago. She has always felt this vase offered her a connection to our parents. We always keep it here, at the top of the stairs, where it can be admired by all that are welcomed into our family quarters.”
Elizabeth was upset, distraught. “However will we tell her? Oh, Fitzwilliam, she will be devastated.”
“We will figure something out, do not worry, Elizabeth. She is almost a grown woman, and although it will break her heart, she will get over it soon enough.”
Mrs. Reynolds was already picking up the pieces and placing them into a basket. Her heart was breaking for her dear little Georgie. She agreed with Fitzwilliam that the girl’s heart would be broken but, like him, was sure she would handle the situation with grace and poise. Mrs. Reynolds feared how she would suffer in the silence of her room, though; she was sure the tears would flow for hours.
The trio picked up chunks of the broken vase in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about what poor Georgiana would say when she found out. Finally, with the task completed, Mrs. Reynolds took care of the vase remnants and discarded flowers while Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam returned to their guests.
By the time Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam entered the sitting room to invite everyone to supper it was already a quarter past six. Elizabeth stood erect despite the pressure building in her head. She pressed her trembling palm to her cheek, trying to cool her flushed skin. Jane noticed Elizabeth’s raised ire and approached her, gently touching her shoulder, offering support amongst the chaos of their family.
The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth when the rest of the party realized they had entered the room.
The Bennets had only arrived three hours earlier, but already it felt as they had been here a week. Do the
y actually plan to stay a fortnight? Elizabeth was already beginning to dread the holidays that, until today, she had been looking forward to with such joy and anticipation. She was tempted to call off supper and send her parents and younger sisters to their rooms to pack. She was sure it was not too late to send them into Lambton to get rooms at the inn.
“I believe supper is ready. Shall we go in?” Elizabeth said in her not to be questioned voice.
Everyone stood to follow, but no one said a word. Though the vase had not been mentioned, everyone was sure it would soon be addressed. They were wrong; Fitzwilliam had no intention of bringing it up, and neither did Elizabeth.
The dining room was silent except for the shuffling of chairs against the floor. Even Mrs. Bennet held her tongue. Finally, jovial Charles could take it no more. “I say, Fitz, I remember there being more lively conversation at the table in the past. I know there was that recent business of the broken vase, but let me assure you the girls are terribly sorry and promise nothing like it will happen again. Am I right?” He looked first at Mary and then Kitty, and both girls vigorously nodded their heads in agreement. “Very good! I think it is all settled. Let us liven the place up a bit. I promise you will want to be in a good mood, for the Darcys have an amazing French cook you are all sure to love.”
His invitation was all Mrs. Bennet needed. “A French cook! Why, I have never eaten food prepared by a French cook, but I have heard there are no better cooks in the world than French ones.”
The tension in the room was palpable; it could almost be cut with a knife. Fitzwilliam confidently responded, “You are correct; our cook, Mrs. Lacroix, was born and raised in France. Both of her parents were chefs and she has been cooking from a young age. Cook studied French cuisine under some of the most renowned chefs in France. We were fortunate that Mrs. Lacroix came to Pemberley upon recommendation. She has since served our family with excellence these many years.”
“She sounds incredible, Fitzwilliam. We are indeed grateful to be your guests here and experience her expertise,” said Jane.
Charles smiled at his wife and reached out to squeeze her hand under the table. Both looked up as six servants entered carrying a variety of dishes. Each dish was placed upon the table and its cover removed. Everyone breathed deep; the aroma of fish, potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes with a caramelized glaze, vegetables from the hot house, freshly baked bread with honey butter, and baked apples arrested their sense. A feast fit for a king.
Elizabeth was amazed at the quality and quantity of food Mrs. Lacroix was able to put together at such short notice. Supper seemed to be going off without a hitch, and Elizabeth began to relax and breathe easy. The servants returned to remove the empty dishes. All had been removed but one when the mayhem commenced. Mrs. Bennet pushed her chair away from the table at the same time a servant was reaching around to remove the final dish. Her chair hit him in the stomach and doubled him over, causing him to drop the dish onto the table in front of Mrs. Bennet. Her wine glass was toppled over, and the red liquid flowed freely over the table and onto the floor and Mrs. Bennet’s finest slippers. “You clumsy fool, just look what you have done!”
Elizabeth’s ire rose quickly. “Mother, you know as well as I whose fault it was, and it certainly was not his. Apologize this minute.” She would not allow her mother to speak to the Pemberley staff in such an egregious manner.
“Apologize? To a servant? Never!” Mrs. Bennet was entirely out of line, and it was escalating. The servants were all scrambling to clean up the mess, except the one who had been hit with the chair. He had regained his composure and was standing near the wall looking at his shiny shoes. He feared he would lose his place over such a mishap. It would not be so terrible if it was not the first supper the new mistress had ever hosted at Pemberley.
“Now, Mother, I mean it. You will apologize this minute.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzy.”
“Not to me, to Jonathan.”
Mrs. Bennet looked as if she were going to throw daggers at her daughter, but, with all the overly dramatic flourish she could muster, she made her apology. Jonathan accepted it, though he and everyone else in the room knew it was insincere. He was turning to make a hasty exit when Elizabeth addressed her mother again. “Now say it as if you mean it.”
The room was silent. Jane and Charles, as well as Mary and Kitty, stared at their plates, trying to imagine the situation was not playing out as it was in front of them. Mr. Bennet was enjoying his second daughter scolding her mother, and Fitzwilliam could not be prouder that his wife was coming to the rescue of a servant even though it meant raising the ire of her mother. He knew how significant this was, considering how much Elizabeth wished to avoid her mother’s displeasure.
“Elizabeth Bennet Darcy, I have told the man I am sorry. I shall not say another word about it.” Mrs. Bennet was livid at her daughter’s insolence. Rarely did she use her daughters’ full names, but when she did she meant business and was fully prepared to stand her ground. Mr. Bennet was concerned a battle would ensue, but his daughter handled the situation better than he imagined possible.
“Very well, Mother. I expect your trunks will be packed as soon as supper is finished. I imagine the inn at Lambton has sufficient room for the remainder of your stay.” Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth to respond, but Elizabeth continued, not giving her a chance to argue. “This is my home, and my staff, and you will treat them with respect or you will not be allowed to remain.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes were piercing flames, but she held her tongue. Jane’s eyes were full of fear and Charles clasped her hand under the table, offering as much support as he could. Mary and Kitty were amazed at Elizabeth’s aplomb. They had never heard anyone speak to their mother in such a manner; though the five sisters had wanted to scold their mother in the past, no one had actually done it. Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. Having my daughters married and under their own roofs is an uncommonly good strategy to put my wife in her place. Now, if Jane could pluck up her courage and do the same, the girls will turn out quite well, he thought.
“The inn at Lambton … well, I am not sure … Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet was at a loss for words. Finally, Mr. Bennet came to her rescue.
“Well, Mrs. Bennet, I think you owe this lad an apology. Otherwise we will be removing to the inn. I must say, I would prefer the company of our family over an inn full of strangers after such a long journey, but if you cannot admit you were in the wrong, I suppose we must leave. Perhaps we could get the girls to attend you so that I might stay here at Pemberley, for it was not as if I offended the lad, and I have been so looking forward to spending some time in Mr. Darcy’s library.” He smiled at his wife and then addressed his two daughters. “What say you, Mary and Kitty? Would you prefer to avoid another episode with the vases of Pemberley and instead attend your mother in the village?”
Both girls sat in silence; their father had not actually meant to address them, and they knew it.
“Oh, Mr. Bennet, of course I do not want to be sent away. You of all people should know how clumsy I am, and when it happens I lose my mind with worry and distress. Of course it is my fault, I just needed a few minutes to calm my nerves and see the situation clearly. Young man, come here!” She waved her hand around, beckoning Jonathan to come near her. “You know I did not mean to blame this episode on you. I fear I am a clumsy woman and just did not realize what happened. I am sorry. Please accept my apology.”
Jonathan nodded to Mrs. Bennet, unsure if he should say anything. The tension in the room was intense, and he simply wanted to be away. It seemed as if his nod was sufficient, and Mrs. Darcy dismissed him and the other servants, asking them to advise Mrs. Reynolds that they would take their dessert in the sitting room. Once they were gone, she gave her mother a final scolding. “I am mightily glad you chose to apologize, Mother, for I much prefer you remain at Pemberley, but please remember I will not hesitate to send you away if you mistreat even one member of the Pemberley
staff. I have been mistress here only a short time, and I will not allow you to come in and stir up trouble before I have gained the staff’s trust and loyalty. Am I understood?”
Mrs. Bennet nodded, afraid to say anything for fear it would be wrong.
“Very well. Let us all go to the sitting room for dessert.”
The entire party stood and followed Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth to the sitting room. Once the dining room was vacated, the staff returned to clean up. There was much chatter about the new mistress, and had they wondered how the new Mrs. Darcy would treat them, they had their answer. It took less than an hour for the whole of the estate to hear the entire story. That night Elizabeth had gained the respect of the staff and the unwavering support of the servant she had demanded justice for.
“Oh, my mother drives me absolutely insane,” Elizabeth huffed as she and Fitzwilliam retired for the night.
“She does have a way of trying one’s patience,” Fitzwilliam responded. He was sitting on the chair near the window, removing his boots and watching Elizabeth pace the full length of the room. “Elizabeth, if you do not stop pacing you will ruin the rug.”
She paused and looked at the rug, half expecting to see it disintegrate under her gaze. When she saw it was intact, she began pacing again, hardly recognizing Fitzwilliam’s jest. “The nerve of my mother, coming here to our house and acting as if she owns the place. Why, I have only been here a short time, and much of it has been spent here in this room. How are the staff to know I am not like my mother? I wish she had never come.” Fitzwilliam listened to her rant while she continued to pace. “Poor Jane, she is too sweet and kind to tell mother to stop interfering, and now she hardly feels her house is her own. Mother continually shows up and changes everything Jane does. Why … why …,” Elizabeth was so upset she could barely complete her sentence, “why, I would banish her from my house!”
