by Nicky Roth
Fortunately, Jane did not take notice, nor did Mr Bingley, while Mr Bennet seemed as if he suppressed a sigh. Yet, he did not do much to steer the conversation in another direction either and so it was on their mother and Elizabeth to sustain the conversation. Not that Elizabeth had contributed much at all, for what was there to say anyway to a person who was intent on being displeased?
'Quite so,' Miss Bingley agreed curtly her lips curling in superior contempt.
Apparently, all her fears had come true. Here was a family who were so unaffected and warm, friendly and welcoming, so very unlike she herself was, that it must be hard to bear.
'Ah, and there is our dinner. You will not find a better cook anywhere around here, let me assure you,' Mrs Bennet prattled on earning her another look of barely disguised contempt from Caroline Bingley while one dish after the other was placed on the large table in front of them.
'Now that is very fortunate.'
'And have you many acquaintances in town?' Elizabeth said, at long last making an effort to finally change the subject, seeing that there was little conversation to be had speaking about their own concerns.
'Naturally. We quite regularly attend Almack's, that is if we do not have a private invitation to see to which is but rarely. My brother is quite a favourite among all the young ladies in town and I am certain that he will make quite as good a match as my older sister has recently done. You know, her husband's uncle is in parliament and very influential. There is one lady in particular who has caught his attention. The sister of a friend of Charles' and a very accomplished young lady. And so elegant, one can hardly believe that Miss Darcy is only just fifteen.'
Bedside Elizabeth a platter of baked salmon and asparagus was nearly dropped making both Elizabeth and Miss Bingley jump a little at hearing the clatter. It could not possibly be, could it? She had not paid much attention to the servants as they repeatedly entered but seeing Hill and John on the other side of the table, the former gesturing to the person behind her as to where to put the dish, and seeing the very decidedly male gloved hand, there was but one conclusion. Oh goodness!
Mr Bingley's bewildered expression in looking up confirmed her suspicions. It was none of the maids who usually helped out on occasions such as this, but William, or rather Mr Darcy himself, had been made to help serve dinner. How in the world had that come to pass? He seemed to have a knack for being made to help out the others, and as far as she was concerned that was testament to his amiability, though perhaps not exactly wise in this very instant. Her aunt's letter came to mind and put a small smile on Elizabeth's face nonetheless, that was, however, quickly erased by the presence of the woman to her right.
'Now really, it is so difficult finding well-trained servants these days, is it not?'
'Perhaps that is so, Caroline, but then again, it would do many a master or mistress some good to put themselves into their servants' shoes from time to time,' her brother interjected.
Though he still smiled and had kept his voice even, there was little doubt that he was quite angry.
To Elizabeth’s astonishment, it was Mary who picked up the conversation: 'It does well for all of mankind to occasionally humble oneself. Before God, we are all the same and none of us can ever be so secure in our position in life as to prevent a fall from grace or be met with misfortune on the way.'
'Quite so, my child,' Mr Bennet agreed, looking on as both John and William left towards the kitchen, while Hill stayed behind to serve them.
'Yes, but one can hardly expect a gentleman or lady to work as a servant, can they?' Miss Bingley replied with a small huff. 'Everyone has their station in life and as it is, some are born to work, while others are meant to guide them and give them a living. Which reminds me, only when we arrived one of your gardeners almost caused an accident. It was quite foolish of him to risk all our lives for the sake of an ugly flea-ridden creature. I strongly recommend talking to that man, before he does something else so utterly thoughtless and dangerous.'
The silence that descended on the party after that statement was almost palpable and only very slowly the conversation resumed, mainly due to the attempts of Mr Bingley trying to be as pleasant as he possibly could. He seemed careful in choosing topics that cut out his own sister from joining in for the time being and thereby, the first course was spent talking about the ball at the assembly hall and little else. Even her father, though he had not joined them at the assembly but had heard everything about it, commented once in a while.
But one could only talk so long about the same subject without some repetition and so, before long, mainly due to her own mother's inquisitiveness to find out as much as she could about London, that was where the conversation ultimately led again.
When it was time to clear the table and serve the second course, Miss Bingley had once more managed to make everybody feel uncomfortable with her not so charming, elegant aloofness. If that was how young ladies of good breeding behaved these days, Elizabeth understood all the more why Mr Darcy had all but fled London to come here to work as a gardener and quite frankly, she was perfectly content not to be a young lady of society.
Chapter 42
Individual commitment to a group effort – that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work.
- Vince Lombardi
It had been a close call once again, that much was true. Darcy had almost given himself away. But truthfully, it had been difficult to keep his anger at bay when hearing Miss Bingley speak about his sister meant to marry her brother. It was not even that he would mind it, but to speak so in front of other young ladies, and one young lady, in particular, was nothing but rude.
Even had she said it straight to the Bennets faces, Caroline Bingley could not have made it more clear that she thought them to be inferior. Something that in itself was ridiculous. Mr Bennet might not be the wealthiest of man around, but he was a gentleman, while the old Mr Bingley had been in trade. And as yet, when it came to society, nobility still came before money, even Miss Bingley seemed to agree, seeing that she had pointed it out repeatedly whenever it suited her.
Darcy did not even care to try and count all the barons he had met that had nothing but debts and were still deemed a suitable match for the one or other younger daughter, while a tradesman, no matter how wealthy, hardly counted for anything. Not that he himself agreed. And not that he had much time to ponder.
While Smith was again very busy, Fanny had been ordered to put some food on the table for the staff to eat, and that was where he now sat, quickly shovelling in his meal, seeing that soon the table upstairs needed to be cleared again. And actually, Peters was in luck, there was the roast beef, some coleslaw, bread, butter, cheese, gammon, apples... - everything was cold, but delicious nonetheless.
'Hey, could you pass me the mustard, please?' Bingley's coachman asked and it was obvious that he tried to remember where he had seen Darcy before.
'Sure,' was his own short reply in reaching for the jar and passing it on.
Had Darcy hoped the man's curiosity could be kept to himself he had been wrong, eventually, he asked: 'Do you have a brother in town?'
'No.'
'But you do remind me of somebody...'
'Why, William used to work in town for a Mr Darcy. Perhaps you have seen him there,' John piped up, once again that sneaky smirk on his face that did not bode well.
'Mr Darcy? Oh...'
Well, it was only natural that now the man looked at him more closely and a powdered wig was hardly enough of a disguise to conceal his true identity. Slowly but surely realisation spread over the coachman's face as he incredulously stared at the very man himself.
'Mr Darcy, of course! Goodness me,' the man eventually stammered and then suddenly and to Darcy's great surprise started to laugh, just as Peters had done. 'Now, no-one will ever believe me when I tell them that Mr Darcy of all people, is working as a footman in the country...'
Oh dear! He was doomed to eternal ridicule.
Or in the very least be considered a very eccentric fellow, which was perhaps preferable. Seeing that many a gentleman had the one or other odd quirk, it could even be that aside from a nonchalant shrug of the one or other shoulder, no-one would be much fazed. But he really should have been more cautious. He had acted reckless and this was now the storm no-one but himself had caused. There was nothing to it, he would have to weather it.
'As it is, I am working as an under-gardener,' Darcy tried to reply as nonchalantly as he possibly could, though his hands had gone sweaty.
'Oh, do you indeed? But may I be so bold and ask why?' Bingley's man dug deeper.
'Well, to find happiness. To once again appreciate the things given to me.'
He was faintly aware that everybody was staring at him open-mouthed and with disbelieve written all over their faces, John's in particular. Whatever he had thought William Hawthorn might be, that he was, in fact, a gentleman, he obviously had not anticipated.
'But as it is, there now is the bell meaning that the table needs to be cleared...'
No-one moved. Not even Peters even though he already knew. It appeared that the manner of how his true identity had been revealed had unsettled even him. Ah well, no use crying over spilt milk, was there? And as such, it was only the milk boiling over on the stove that woke Smith from her stupor and with her the rest of the others.
In no time at all, the table in the kitchen was cleared so the next courses could be dished up. But while everyone was busy, Darcy could feel that the mood had shifted. Where before there had been companionship, there now was reserve and distrust. If anything, this was worse than society's ridicule, or being considered plain weird ever could be. These people had been his friends, his family almost. They had made him happy, trusted him, had accepted him as one of their own and now they had been disappointed. It was hard to bear.
What did it matter if Miss Bingley found him out now? With any luck, she would never look at him again. However, that was little consolation at present. When Darcy turned to help Hill and John clear the table upstairs, he was held back.
'We will manage, Sir,' the butler bowed, pointedly avoiding his eyes.
'But I have offered to help and I wouldn't have done so if...'
'No, Mr Darcy, you stay down here or leave, whatever suits you best.'
'Oh, for Heaven's sake!' Peters suddenly raised his voice. 'He's been one of us for weeks now and since he's come here he's been nothing but helpful and kind. Stop being miffed, Hill, will you? And you lot, too! Only because he's a gentleman doesn't make him a leper all of a sudden. For all, I'm concerned he's still good old William and he certainly doesn't behave any differently now that we all know who he really is than he did an hour ago.'
To Darcy's great surprise it was John who seconded the enraged gardener, closely followed by Smith, the stable lads and, not to be underestimated, Mrs Hill.
'Ah well, I think you might have a point,' the butler at long last replied with a resigned smile. 'But you have to admit that the situation is a somewhat odd one.'
Chapter 43
When one burns one's bridges, what a nice fire it makes.
- Dylan Thomas
'I have to say the food was surprisingly good,' Caroline Bingley complimented, though her affected smile did not reach her eyes. 'I would not have thought that you would be able to get such a variety of different things here in the country. But then again, Hertfordshire is not all that far from London, is it now?'
Her tinkling and insincere laugh was even worse.
'Oh, but we have a second course to come, Miss Bingley,' Mrs Bennet informed her with a gracious smile, making the young lady's eyebrows rise in some surprise.
'Oh! Really?'
To herself, Elizabeth thought it to be rather unfortunate that another hour or two would pass before she could even consider to excuse herself, and it seemed that Hill was in no hurry to clear the table. Several minutes had already passed since Kitty had rung the bell and as yet no-one had appeared. It was obvious that not only she had noticed as much, but also Miss Bingley, her face barely containing the superiority she surely must feel at being faced with such apparent tardy servants.
'Yes, of course,' Mrs Bennet replied cheerfully and at long last the door opened.
Yes, Elizabeth had been correct in her assumptions. Alongside Hill and John, it indeed was none other than Mr Darcy who entered the room, looking slightly odd with his white wig and the slightly ill-fitting livery. That he still managed to cut a fine figure was some achievement.
However, his presence here actually begged the question of whether he actually wanted to be found out. While she had gathered that his friend knew of his being here, there was no doubt in her mind that said friend's sister was oblivious to that fact. On the other hand, nothing was ever as well hidden as it was in plain sight, was it not? One could almost call it a truth universally acknowledged.
And indeed, Miss Bingley hardly took notice of the servants. As a matter of fact, she did not even attempt to make clearing the table any easier for the men as should be normal. Another sign that the lady did not possess half as much good breeding as she appeared to think she did.
Mr Darcy seemed to notice it, too, and catching Elizabeth's eyes the slightest of smiles crossed his face as he reached for Lydia's plate, precariously balancing it on his arm in an attempt to imitate John, while Hill was already taking care of the mainly half-empty platters.
Apparently, Miss Bingley could not help it as she testily asked, at seeing the apparent clumsiness of him, yet still not realising his identity: 'I take it your footman has not been with you for very long. I declare, one almost needs to be scared that he might drop something. And how slow he is...'
'Perhaps, but as it is, one cannot train a servant without taking certain risks,' Elizabeth smiled back archly.
How Darcy managed to keep his mouth firmly closed was quite a mystery. She would have either laughed already or said something outrageous. But as it was, while he was indeed struggling slightly, taking great care that he would not accidentally drop a knife or fork, let alone the whole stack of plates, he stayed perfectly calm and instead waited patiently until he could take the plates without being a bother to anyone. Just as a good footman was trained to do, actually.
'That might be the case in a small household,' Caroline Bingley corrected her haughtily, 'but let me tell you that in big houses, the servants are trained first before they are allowed to serve their master. At Pemberley, Mr Darcy's estate in Derbyshire, one would never find a servant that does not know how to do their tasks properly. He is very particular about that, I assure you.'
It was hard not to look at the man in question, still waiting to be able to get at Miss Bingley's empty plate, or to laugh inwardly at the absurdity that the man the lady now spoke of was the very one she was unwittingly belittling and hampering. From the head of the table, a slight cough sounded over to her, telling her that her father clearly thought along the same lines and was just as desperately trying to suppress a chuckle and Mr Bingley looked as if wished for nothing more than the ground to open beneath him. Even Jane blushed.
'Whenever he gets married,' Caroline Bingley carried on undeterred and unaware of the awkward glances cast her way, 'there will hardly be anything to do for his wife. Not in such a well organised household as his. His housekeeper is very thorough and she has to be, or otherwise she would not have worked for the Darcy- Family for so long. And I flatter myself that while his sister has, as I have already mentioned, taken a liking to my brother, I would say it is only a matter of time until another most desirable union. If you get my meaning...'
Never in her life had Elizabeth been as mortified as there and then and the expression on Mr Bingley's face clearly showed that he, too, was more than a little embarrassed. Even Jane had to cast down her eyes from sheer shame. Yet the lady who ought to feel all those emotions obviously did not.
'In one instance only, Miss Bingley, you are perfectly right,' Darcy finally spoke u
p unable to hold back any longer, 'my wife will want for nothing, least of all love. But as it is, that woman will not be you. Nor, for that matter, has there ever been anything but mutual regard and friendship between your brother and my sister. And now, if you will please excuse me, I am needed downstairs in the kitchen.'
Several things happened at once. Her father started laughing; Kitty and Lydia started whispering animatedly to one another; Mary merely sat dumbstruck her expression a curious mix of disapproval and amusement; her mother went into hysterics; Jane blushed most becomingly; Bingley appeared rather relieved; and his sister preferred to pass out and avoid the situation altogether.
