Rose Cottage

by A K Madison

  Elizabeth patted the older woman on the shoulder. “I thank you, Lady Lucas. I have Charlotte’s letter in my pocket, but I have not had the opportunity to read it. I will send a note to let you know of any news. The health of the babe must be our first concern. Will you not be proud to be a grandmama?” She smiled, and the older woman’s face brightened. Just then, Mrs. Long came up to take her leave, and Elizabeth turned to speak to her.

  Darcy watched her from a spot near the window. She must be exhausted. She had eaten virtually nothing all day, and she had been on her feet since morning. He would give up a good deal to coax the roses back into her cheeks and to erase the marks of fatigue from her fine eyes. He strode into the dining room, returning a few minutes later with a plate, silverware, and a napkin.

  “Miss Bennet,” he began. “You have not eaten sufficient food today. I have brought you a meal that will be sustaining, if not elegant. You owe it to your mother, your sisters, and yourself to keep your strength up. Will you not be seated?” She gave him a tired half-smile and allowed herself to be led to a chair. He handed her the napkin and plate. “A sandwich of good roast beef and cheese. Very sustaining. And an orange.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, noting that he had cut the sandwich up into quarters for her and that the orange had been sectioned to look like a flower on the plate. “An orange! They are my favorite fruit. I know not how these came to be at Longbourn. We certainly do not have them at this time of year.”

  He reddened slightly. “They came from the orangery at Pemberley. I brought them as a gift for Mrs. Bingley, and she suggested that they would be of greater benefit to this house. There are enough that you and your family should be able to enjoy fruits and juice for several days.”

  “It will be a rare treat.” Elizabeth was too exhausted to make sense of what was going on with Mr. Darcy. Despite the hard, ugly parting between them at Hunsford Parsonage the previous April, he was on his best behavior. It was more than that, really. He seemed to be showing genuine kindness and compassion. She could not account for it. It must be natural good breeding in the presence of a bereaved family. Perhaps the loss of her father had caused Darcy to recollect his manners. As she was musing and consuming her sandwich, he disappeared suddenly, returning with a glass of wine.

  “This wine will also be beneficial for you, Miss Bennet. It will facilitate restful sleep, and I suspect you stand in need of that.”

  “How would you know that, Mr. Darcy?”

  He sat in the chair next to hers. “You may not be aware of it, but the management of a household, indeed of an estate, fell on my shoulders when I was but a few months older than you are now. And, unless I miss my guess, you stood in relation to your father in much the same way as I stood to mine.”

  “I loved him dearly.” Elizabeth instantly regretted revealing so much and began eating her orange. When she had finished three delicious segments, she spoke again. “Surely, there can be no comparison between an estate the size of Pemberley and a small cottage with five ladies.”

  Once again that look of compassion, or empathy, or whatever it was, flitted across his face. He did not entirely succeed in masking it. It remained in the expression of his eyes.

  “I believe you to be mistaken in that regard, Miss Bennet. The worries and cares remain the same whether the size of the household is large or small.”

  “Very profound, Mr. Darcy.”

  Before he could reply, Bingley and Jane approached them. As Elizabeth had been eating, the guests had taken their leave. A few women remained assisting the servants to tidy up, and the house would soon be back to normal—at least in appearance. Bingley seated his wife on the sofa opposite Darcy and Elizabeth and sat down next to her. “Jane and I have been talking,” he began. “Lizzy, have you seen Rose Cottage?”

  “I have seen it from the outside on some of my walks, Charles. In summer, the garden is quite overgrown, but there are beautiful roses there. As I recall, it looks as though it requires some attention in order to be habitable.” She paused, not wishing to appear ungrateful or demanding. “We are all sure it will be fine, and we are excited by the idea of the renovations.”

  “What would you say to Darcy and I calling for you tomorrow morning? We will drive you to the cottage, and you may take a good look at it. The upstairs is unsafe for now, but there is plenty to be seen on the ground floor. The kitchen is in an addition that runs to the back of the house.”

  “Do consider it Lizzy. It is only a few steps from the cottage to the house, and you could come afterward and have some tea. Allow me to cosset you a little.” Jane smiled at her sister.

  “I have not seen the cottage yet, Miss Bennet. But it is a good idea,” added Darcy. If substantial alterations are needed, they can be accomplished much more easily and cheaply in the early stages.”

  “In that case, I accept.” Elizabeth smiled over at Bingley and her sister and popped her last orange section into her mouth.

  “Good then.” Bingley smiled back at her. “Would ten o’clock be too early?”

  “Not at all. I shall be ready at ten. I take it I should wear my boots.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Aunt and Uncle Gardiner came in just then, and the Netherfield party prepared to leave. Elizabeth embraced them both. “I will see you tomorrow at Netherfield,” said Elizabeth, fighting tears. She turned to include the entire group. “Thank you all for—for everything.”

  The house was dark and quiet as Elizabeth went up to bed. She had a care to put out all the candles on the ground floor and to see that the fires were banked, jobs her father had always attended to. She took up her own candle, went into her room, and undressed. This evening she took the time to wash her face and to put on a proper nightdress. Then she remembered Charlotte’s letter, drew it from the pocket of her gown, and settled by the fire to read it.

  Hunsford Parsonage, February 1, 18__

  Dearest Eliza,

  How I wish I could sprout wings and fly to Longbourn to be with you! We received the news just this morning, and you have been in my thoughts ever since. There has been a slight difficulty with the baby—nothing too serious, I assure you—and Mr. Meade wishes me to remain in bed for six weeks. Mr. Collins will remain by my side until I am released by the physician. He sends his deepest condolences as do Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh.

  Eliza, I will do everything in my power to ensure you may stay at Longbourn until your new home at Netherfield is ready. I do not wish your mother’s grief to be compounded by fear of being put out of her home without another home to go to. The difficulty with the baby, slight though it may be, will aid me in that endeavor. I shall delay coming to you until the last possible moment.

  Secondly, I must tell you that the furniture you saw last spring here at Hunsford belongs to Mr. Collins, and he regards all of it as being family heirlooms. While I cannot venture an opinion on its value, and I feel the sentiments that connect him to the furniture may work in our favor. I shall endeavor to convince him to bring as much as possible along with us. Mr. Collins plans to set up his own substantial library in Mr. Bennet’s library space at Longbourn. He says that you may take the books with you and the library furniture as well.

  Finally, dearest Eliza, please take the time to look after yourself. I cannot begin to express with my pen the sorrow I feel at your loss. Your father brought a note of grace to all our lives, and I well understand the depth of your attachment to him. Please write as soon and as often as you can, and I promise to do the same.

  With all my love,

  Charlotte

  Chapter 3

  The sunny morning, was not enough to quiet the sense of dread that was now Elizabeth’s constant companion. Although she had slept soundly, as soon as she opened her eyes, she was oppressed again by her family’s precarious position. In fact, she admitted to herself that whenever she allowed her thoughts to become idle, the fear that was now her constant companion would creep in. She knew it was pointless t
o worry; even so, tears began to gather at the corners of her eyes. She dashed them away, got out of bed quickly, rang for Susan, and prepared for her visit to Rose Cottage by dressing in one of her older dyed muslin gowns and a pair of sturdy boots.

  “A package come this morning from London, miss. And tis a large one. Might it be your new cloaks?”

  “It might be. Perhaps I should wear mine today.”

  “Oh, no, Miss. Wear your second-best pelisse, the grey one. You won’t want to go to a dirty place where they are digging and building in your new cloak.”

  “You are right, Susan. But I will wear the new black scarf round the collar. That should provide the right note.” She peered into the mirror. While the dark circles had diminished, she still looked pale. Black was not her color. When she was ready, she went downstairs.

  Although it was nine o’clock, no one else in the family was stirring. Hill met her in the downstairs hall. “Good morning, Miss Bennet. Your breakfast is hot and on the table.” The woman hesitated for a moment. “Would you mind going over these dinner menus for me? I have planned enough meals to last us until next market day. I don’t think your mother is equal to it.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth took the paper. “Have you a pencil? Since I am alone this morning, I will read them while I eat, though I am certain they are perfect.” She settled at the table, noticing with a pang that the breakfast included her favorites, and did her best to finish every morsel. Over a second cup of coffee, she reviewed Mrs. Hill’s meal plans and found them acceptable. She wrote “Perfect, thank you – EB” at the bottom of the list, and as she rose from the breakfast-table, she handed it to the maid with instructions to give it to Mrs. Hill. In return, the maid handed her a stack of letters. While there were none for her, there were three addressed to her father. She separated those and handed the rest back to the maid.

  In the hallway, she frowned at the letters for her father. All bore London addresses of merchants—bookseller, tea merchant, wine merchant. She took them into the library and laid them on his desk. She had no idea how such bills were actually paid. Surely one did not just send bank notes through the mail. One of her uncles would know. She left the library quickly because it made her sad to be there.

  Elizabeth had just finished putting on her bonnet when she heard the carriage. To her delight, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were admitted. Each embraced and kissed her. “Lizzy, I have come to visit your mother,” said Aunt Gardiner. “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are already at the cottage, and your uncle will conduct you there to meet them. Then you must have a nice, long visit with Jane. Please stay as long as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Aunt.”

  Elizabeth and her uncle settled into the carriage, and once they had begun the short drive, she spoke. “Uncle, how does one pay bills?”

  He patted her hand. “Remember what we have said, Lizzy. You are not to worry about the money right now. We will show you how to plan for your household expenses.”

  “No, Uncle. I am not worried about the money, for I have taken to heart what you told me. I do not know how a bill is actually paid; that is, if a merchant is not nearby, how you send him the money.”

  Her uncle laughed. “I am making things too complicated. For now, give your Uncle Philips the bills. He will pay them by means of bank drafts. Since he is a busy man, he may want to show you how to do that. It is not difficult.” Mr. Gardiner looked out of the carriage. “Here we are at the lane to Netherfield.”

  They drove past the road that passed the front of the house and veered off to the left onto another well-kept road that Elizabeth had not noticed. It wound uphill through a thin stand of trees, and there at its end was Rose Cottage. Elizabeth caught her breath. It certainly was picturesque. Built of the same rosy brick that had been used for the main house, the structure was two stories high with rooms on a third floor under a dormered roof. Two windows graced each side of the front door, and off to the left-hand side was a small wing with its own peaked and dormered roof. A single elm tree stood to the left in the front, and the cottage stood against a backdrop of woods. A fence of once-white pickets surrounded the remains of the garden. It had fallen, borne down by the weight of innumerable climbing rose bushes, now dormant.

  “I see why they call it Rose Cottage,” said Elizabeth. She looked up at the roof, silhouetted against the blue sky. It had once been wood-shingled. Now it was in serious disrepair, and she could see several men on ladders stretching lengths of tarpaulin over the worst part. Bingley hurried out to greet them.

  “Welcome, Lizzy!” he said with his usual kind smile. “I hope you don’t find all of this too daunting.” He assisted her down from the carriage and they waited for Mr. Gardiner.

  “No, Charles! The house is charming. And it is much more spacious than I had imagined. Mama and the girls will be pleased. I believe it is larger than Hunsford Parsonage.” She took his offered arm and they walked through a gap in the fence and towards the door.

  “It is larger than it looks,” replied Bingley. The kitchen is in an extension to the back, and there is a small cellar beneath it.”

  As they picked their way through the mud, Darcy climbed down a ladder placed next to the front door. Unlike Bingley and Gardiner, he was attired in nankeen trousers, sturdy boots, and a rough woolen jacket with the sleeves pushed up. A large white linen handkerchief knotted loosely around his neck took the place of a cravat, and his white linen shirt was the only thing that set him apart from the other workmen. He bowed, and his eyes searched her face briefly. “Miss Bennet. Good morning. I trust everyone is well at Longbourn? Your mother is in good health?”

  “Yes, thank you, sir. When I left, she and my sisters were all still sleeping.”

  “It is the best thing for them. There is a bench over beside the tree. Shall we all walk in that direction? I will report to you on what I have learned so far.” As they began to pick their way across the muddy yard, he continued. “It is not so bad as it looks.”

  When Elizabeth had been seated on the bench, Bingley and Mr. Gardiner took seats on a pile of lumber stacked nearby. Darcy stood leaning against the tree and extracted a pencil and notebook from his pocket. “I have done a preliminary examination of the house from attic to cellar. I believe it to be in sound condition, though we may wish to confirm my observations with a master builder. The roof is in poor condition. It was originally wood-shingled, but I suggest replacing it with slate. The top floor contains bedchambers for servants. There is a small attic area above, directly beneath the roof.”

  Darcy looked at his audience before continuing. “The first floor consists of four large family bedchambers including a suite with a small sitting room and adjacent dressing room. There is a fifth smaller bedroom above the addition. The floors need to be checked for damage and loose boards, the plaster needs patching or replacement in some areas, and cleaning and painting are required throughout.”

  He consulted his notes. “As for the ground floor, which we can tour if you wish, Miss Bennet, it is in better condition than the two upper floors. There are two large parlors, a room that appears to have been the dining-room, a smaller rear parlor overlooking the woods, and a library in the addition. The library is fitted out with bookshelves and is in surprisingly good condition”

  Elizabeth had forgotten, at least for the moment, that she was supposed to be angry with him. “That is a good thing, Mr. Darcy. I heard from Mrs. Collins late yesterday, and she has urged us to bring Papa’s books here when we move.”

  “I recall from our conversations that you have improved your mind by extensive reading. Are any of your sisters great readers?”

  “Yes. My sister Mary reads a great deal. She and I regard the library as a legacy from our father. I am glad there is a room ready to serve as a home for the books.”

  “Now, as to the structure itself, we must have the master builder see to the chimneys. I am unable to determine their condition. The roof must be the top priority and should be started immediately. The
kitchen must be thoroughly scrubbed and will probably require a new stove and other furnishings. There is a housekeeper’s apartment of bedchamber, office, and parlor towards the rear, sufficiently roomy to accommodate Mr. and Mrs. Hill in comfort. That concludes my observations.” Darcy closed his notebook and looked at them expectantly.

  Mr. Gardiner stood up and brushed off his trousers. “Gracious, Mr. Darcy! You have been very thorough this morning, and I can see you have done this before. Thank you.”

  Darcy inclined his head and said, “Thank you, Mr. Gardiner. Perhaps we can all discuss this further at Netherfield House after we have taken our tour of the ground floor of the cottage.” He paused and consulted his notes. “For example, I have neglected to mention the glazing.” He gestured toward the front door, and the group picked their way over the uneven ground to the path.

  Elizabeth’s mind would have been in more of a turmoil had she not been grappling with the loss of her father and the enormous changes that would soon take place. However, she admitted to herself that Mr. Darcy’s demeanor had certainly not been proud or haughty that morning. Though grave and serious, he was clearly interested in communicating his knowledge to the three latecomers. He also projected an aura of competence, possibly aided by his attire. As they approached the cottage, she noticed more climbing roses about the wall. Mr. Darcy opened the front door and stood aside for the group to enter.