Decisions

by Ola Wegner

  “Yes, Mrs Reynolds?” Elizabeth asked, looking upon the housekeeper.

  “Excuse me for interrupting you while you are busy,” the woman said, her expression grave. “However, there is a very important matter which we must discuss without delay.”

  Elizabeth looked at the woman, wondering what had happened to put the usually calm housekeeper into such a mood.

  “Of course, Mrs Reynolds. I will gladly take a break from writing to have some tea. Please, take a seat.”

  Elizabeth called for tea, and as they waited for it, Mrs Reynolds began her tale. “Mrs Darcy, I will not beat about the bush. There is a certain complication with one of the maids. I thought that I should discuss it with you. I simply must.”

  “What is the matter?”

  “Lucy works in the kitchen. She came to us from the village. Her father is a good farmer, but as they had more than ten children in the house, some of them had to look for their luck outside it. Lucy was a good girl, quite skilled, sometimes even helped the cook with easy recipes, but last summer everything changed.”

  “Is it the one with pale blonde hair, not very tall?”

  “Yes, the same one.”

  “Is she ill?” Elizabeth probed, noticing that Mrs Reynolds found it difficult to continue.

  “She is with child,” the housekeeper announced dramatically.

  “I see. Well, it is not the end of the world, I believe. Such things do happen from time to time.”

  “She has been hiding it from me and everyone else,” Mrs Reynolds said, clearly indignant with the maid’s condition. “But I am not stupid. I had my suspicions for some time but today I learned the truth when I questioned her directly. She is more than five months away. It is already showing.”

  Elizabeth watched the housekeeper with compassion. The poor woman was utterly distraught.

  “Who is the father?” Elizabeth asked.

  “She refuses to give his name. It has to be someone from the house or the estate. She walks to the village to visit her family on her free days, but I think that her parents have an eye on her when she is there. They are good people.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “She must get married,” Elizabeth pointed out. “That would solve the problem.”

  “If only we knew who the father is, we could act from there,” Mrs Reynolds said.

  The tea was brought. They returned to the conversation once the maid who brought it was gone. It was not a conversation to be heard by other servants.

  “Do you think that someone might have harmed her?” Elizabeth suggested. “Perhaps the man responsible for her condition forced himself on her. She might be scared to reveal his identity.”

  Mrs Reynolds shook her head. “I do not believe so. Everyone here knows that Mr Darcy is very strict about such matters. The same as his late father, Mr George Darcy, he frowns upon those who beat women or take them against their will. You might have not heard about it, but in the past we had a certain young lad here who liked to seduce young girls. He was the son of the old steward, Mr Wickham. He has been gone for many years, though.”

  Elizabeth was eager to ask the housekeeper more about Wickham, but she decided against it. Mrs Reynolds did not have to know that she was acquainted with him.

  “I think that we should find the father in the first place,” Elizabeth said. “He should take responsibility for his actions.”

  “But that obstinate girl refuses to say his name!” Mrs Reynolds cried out. “I tried to threaten her, but she is silent as a stone. Stupid, stupid girl.”

  “I will speak to her tomorrow,” Elizabeth promised.

  “Thank you, mistress.” The woman appeared visibly relieved. “Perhaps she shall confess her secret to you.”

  “I will try.”

  “She cannot stay here for much longer, that is certain,” Mrs Reynolds said. “With her growing belly, she is the worst possible example for other girls. It would be the best for her to get married as soon as possible.”

  “Very well, Mrs Reynolds. I will tell Drew to bring Lucy to me tomorrow morning. Perhaps she shall be more open when I talk to her in the privacy of a family wing.”

  “I apologize, Mrs Darcy,” the housekeeper said. “Those girls are my responsibility.”

  “Mrs Reynolds, you take too much blame on yourself. Lucy is not the first girl in this situation, I am certain.”

  The housekeeper was still inconsolable. Elizabeth did not know what to say to convince her that what had happened with the maid was not her fault. She thought that it would be for the best to turn her attention in another direction.

  “Mrs Reynolds, there is a possibility—I mean, I am nearly certain—that by the end of the year we shall greet a new member of the Darcy family,” she announced.

  “Oh, mistress, how wonderful to hear it!” the housekeeper exclaimed, her expression instantly brightened. “I congratulate you and Mr Darcy. One more time we shall hear the pitter-patter of small feet running the halls of Pemberley.”

  “It is still very early, though. I know that I can count on your discretion, but for the time being Mr Darcy and I wish to keep it a secret.”

  “It is very wise, mistress. After all, it is a private family affair.” Judging by the tone of her voice, Mrs Reynolds was very proud that she was included as a member of the inner family circle.

  “I am sharing it because I have recently discovered myself unable to even look at certain types of food which the cook likes to prepare. I thought that we should change the menu for the next weeks. Sometimes even the smell makes me sick.”

  “Of course, Mrs Darcy. We shall go through the menu whenever you wish to.”

  “If you have time, we could do it today even.”

  “Excellent, excellent. I would be more than happy to do it.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I thank you.”

  ***

  At dinner, Elizabeth felt unexpectedly fatigued. She found herself nearly dozing over dessert. She was forced to excuse herself from Georgiana’s company and retire early. She was in bed and fast asleep before eight, which had not happened to her for many years, in all probability since she had been a small child.

  When she woke up a few hours later, she saw a familiar figure standing by the fireplace, warming his hands.

  “Fitzwilliam!” she exclaimed, sitting up.

  He walked to the bed and sat on the very edge of it. He was still in his travel attire, including his great coat and tall boots.

  “It was not my intention to wake you.”

  She put her arms around him.

  “I thought that you would not return today,” she said, inhaling the scent of outdoors, horse, his sweat and soap combined together in a most delicious aroma.

  “I thought the same. Pierson stayed for the night in Matlock, but I decided to travel to you.”

  “At night? You could have put yourself in danger.”

  “I know every nook and corner here. Tonight is a full moon. I could see the road very clearly, I assure you.”

  “I am most pleased that you returned,” she said, clinging to him.

  “Truly?” he asked.

  She nodded her head. “I was missing you,” she admitted, feeling him squeezing her gently and kissing her head.

  To her dissatisfaction, he pulled her away from him at arm’s length, examining her face.

  “Are you well?” he asked seriously.

  “I am.”

  “I have been told that you are eating very little and that you nearly fell asleep during dinner.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Who told you that?”

  “I have my spies,” he informed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Well, only a little fatigued.”

  “Good,” he said.

  Elizabeth stared into his eyes.

  “Have you found the horses?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Those we found were not ours.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.”

&nb
sp; “I think that we shall never retrieve them. The most important matter is that you are well. Promise me that you shall take care of yourself.”

  “I promise.”

  They began to kiss. Elizabeth pushed away his coat and began untying his neckcloth.

  “I need to call Clayton to help me remove my boots,” Darcy murmured against her lips.

  “I do not mind the boots, and leave poor Clayton in peace,” she said, her quick fingers opening his vest. “He must be fast asleep by now.”

  She sighed when his hands found her bosom. “Gentle, please,” she asked, at the same time pressing herself into his touch.

  As she climbed over him, Darcy thought that it was the best welcome he could ever dream of.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next day Elizabeth decided to take breakfast in her room. Darcy loved her gently and not throughout half of the night as had been his custom before. By midnight she was fast asleep in his arms. Despite having a good night’s rest, she felt instantly tired upon waking up. Half an hour later, dressed in an elegant peignoir, she was seated on the chaise longue in their private room. She munched on a plain piece of bread. Drew insisted that she should have a light meal in the morning. Elizabeth did not protest. Her stomach was twisted in knots.

  She was drinking a rather bitter herbal tea when Darcy walked in. He was wearing his riding attire and was clean shaved.

  “How are you today, my dear?” he asked, kissing her lightly on the lips.

  “Very well,” she assured him.

  He looked at her modest breakfast then examined her features. “You are pale.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know how to compliment a woman first thing in the morning,” she murmured.

  He took a seat beside her. “I am simply concerned. Perhaps you should rest today.”

  “I am well, Fitzwilliam,” she repeated, her voice growing impatient. “I am not sick.”

  “I am aware that you are not sick. Still, you must remember your condition.”

  “I do remember it, but it does not mean I cannot continue with my everyday routine,” she snapped.

  “Of course not,” he agreed quickly.

  Darcy did not stay long in her company. Elizabeth guessed that he was afraid to receive another verbal lashing from her. She was quite short with him, but she could not help herself. He got on her nerves this morning.

  After Darcy left, Drew reappeared with a young maid in tow.

  “Mrs Darcy, this is Lucy Gibson. She serves as the maid in the kitchen. Mrs Reynolds said that you wished to talk with her.”

  Elizabeth’s gaze rested on the girl. Lucy was wearing a dress and apron much too big for her. Still, Elizabeth could clearly see the thickening of her midsection and added puffiness to her face.

  She smiled at the girl, gesturing for her to come closer.

  Drew stood behind the girl. “Should I go, mistress?”

  “No, Drew, please, stay here with us,” Elizabeth said, then she looked at the younger girl. “Mrs Reynolds informed me yesterday about the situation you found herself in.”

  Lucy looked away from her, twisting her hands together in front of her growing belly.

  “Both Mrs Reynolds and I wish to help you, but you must tell us who is the father of your child.”

  Elizabeth could see Drew staring at the other maid’s midsection with her eyes wide while Lucy was silent.

  “Has someone forced himself on you?” Elizabeth asked gently.

  The maid nodded her head.

  “Who was that?” Elizabeth coaxed her.

  “Mr Darcy.”

  “Who?”

  “It was Master Darcy,” she repeated, her tone hard.

  Drew smacked the girl at the back of her head. “How dare you! You are biting the hand which is feeding you. Do you want to end with your bastard right on the street?”

  The girl ran out of the room.

  Drew stepped to Elizabeth. “I do hope that you did not believe her, my lady.”

  “I did not,” Elizabeth assured her. “I am truly shocked, though. I cannot guess why she decided to invent such a story.”

  “Ungrateful little twit,” Drew murmured.

  Elizabeth rose to her feet. “Help me to dress, Drew. I must speak with Mr Darcy. He should be informed of this situation, I am afraid. There is no other way. Also while I look for him, please inform Mrs Reynolds about what the girl has just said. Do it in private, though. We do not need more people to hear about it.”

  ***

  Elizabeth entered the library to see that Darcy was not there. The room was empty. She suspected that he was inspecting the estate after his trip to London. He could be in the stables or in the village.

  She was about to look for the butler, Mr Haynes, to ask him about his master’s whereabouts when Mrs Reynolds entered the library, her colour high, her expression furious.

  “Mrs Darcy, I have just heard!” she exclaimed.

  “Shush, Mrs Reynolds.” Elizabeth put her finger to her lips, closing the door behind the housekeeper.

  “Drew told me everything. How dare she? How dare she lie like this right to your face?”

  Elizabeth could see that the woman was trembling all over from indignation.

  “Calm down, Mrs Reynolds. I beg you.”

  The housekeeper sat down, touching her chest, her breathing visibly strained. Elizabeth ran to the small cabinet containing liquor and poured a generous glass of red wine.

  “Please, drink it,” she said, returning to the woman.

  Mrs Reynolds sipped the wine slowly.

  Elizabeth sat in front of her.

  “Are you well?”

  “I c-cannot believe that… I-I just cannot,” the woman stuttered. “I thought that I had seen every kind of wickedness in my life so far. Master Fitzwilliam has always been so good and fair to everyone. He does not deserve such treatment.”

  Elizabeth patted her cold hand. There was a knock at the door.

  “Who is that?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Haynes.”

  “Enter.”

  The butler stepped in and instantly rushed to Mrs Reynolds.

  “Is she ill?” he asked.

  “Just upset,” Elizabeth said. “Mr Haynes, where is Mr Darcy?”

  “At the village with Mr Pierson.”

  “Stay with Mrs Reynolds, please. She will explain everything to you. I must go speak with Mr Darcy.”

  Mrs Reynolds looked up at her, her expression utterly miserable. “It is all my fault. I hired her.”

  “Nonsense, Mrs Reynolds. I can promise you that we will have this problem solved without delay.”

  With those words Elizabeth hurried out of the library.

  ***

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on the main square of the village with the steward, Mr Pierson. They examined the damages done to the causeway by the harsh winter.

  “We need to add more gravel and some cobblestones as well here,” he said. “The carts and wagons will get stuck in the mud after only a few days of good rain. We cannot allow the road to be unpassable.”

  “That is true, master. Shall we hire the same people we did last year?”

  Darcy shook his head. “No. They did a poor job. Make enquiries and find someone else. More reliable this time.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “Good,” Darcy said. Pierson was not looking at him but far into the distance. He followed his gaze. To his astonishment he saw his wife heading in their direction.

  He marched toward her. Something must have happened. He felt it. She was smiling at him but he could see that there was something amiss in her expression.

  “Mrs Darcy,” he greeted her formally, knowing that there were curious villagers walking out of their houses to gape at them. The arrival of any Darcy to the village brought much attention. Particularly, the young Mrs Darcy was a source of much interest.

  “Has something happened?” he asked.

  She forced a smile. “I am afraid that it has
. There has been an emergency of sorts.”

  A deep frown creased his forehead. “Are you well?”

  “I am perfectly well. The problem concerns Lucy Gibson, one of the kitchen maids.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Do you remember how I talked to you about what I saw in the stables months ago?”

  He appeared confused for a moment but before long understanding dawned upon him. “I do remember. The stable hand and one of the maids met secretly in one of the stalls.”

  “It turns out that she is with child.”

  “I see. Poor Mrs Reynolds. She must be distraught. She feels personally responsible for every girl she hires.”

  Not minding the small crowd which gathered around them, Elizabeth took a step forward to him, placing her gloved hands on his chest.

  “There is more, Fitzwilliam,” she spoke quietly. “And I do think that you should hear it from me.”

  She rose on her tiptoes and whispered a few sentences into his ear.

  ***

  Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy were seated in front of the fireplace as was their custom. It was quite late in the evening and they were wearing their nightclothes, ready to retire at any moment.

  Darcy opened the flat velvet box, showing her what lay within it.

  “I found it for you,” he said. “In London.”

  She gasped. “Fitzwilliam, how beautiful!” She touched the necklace.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I do, very much so.”

  He gave her another box. She opened it curiously.

  “It is too much,” she said, looking at the earrings and bracelet.

  “The man at the store said that the necklace without bracelet and earrings is incomplete,” he explained. “He helped me to match this set.”

  “I am sure that he did. But it had to cost you a fortune.”

  “I enjoyed buying those pieces for you. I also bought pretty earrings for Georgiana. I will give them to her tomorrow. The owner of the shop assured me that the jewellery is delicate enough that you can wear it every day. He also said that if you did not like it he can exchange it for something else.”

  “Exchange it?” Elizabeth shook her head. “They are exceptionally pretty. You have good taste, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  “I cannot deny it. I chose you, after all.”