by Katie Bright
“Nonsense, I won’t hear of it. You won’t get through to Lambton in this weather. Mrs Reynolds will make up one of the guest rooms upstairs,” he said.
“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
Darcy looked at her with a hint of suspicion.
“I noticed as we drove up that the shutters were closed on the windows upstairs. I would be quite happy with a room down here.”
“Of course, whatever you prefer. I’m afraid Pemberley has become a little too expensive to run nowadays, and a little worn, a bit like me,” he teased, a slight smile playing upon his lips.
For the briefest of moments, she could see the old Darcy back.
“You said that Mr Reynolds is gone for your car,” Darcy confirmed.
“Yes, he has.”
“Well, he’ll soon bring it up to the house,” Mrs Reynolds remarked. “It’s funny how you never met him when you visited before. But I suppose he was always busy doing something. And talking of being busy, I’ve got to get this ironing done. Then we can work out where to put you,” Mrs Reynolds said as she pulled out the ironing board and plugged in the iron.
“Can I help?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, you sit there and get yourself warm, I always think better when I’m ironing.”
Elizabeth rubbed her boots together. Even though she was sat in front of the fire her toes were still cold. The cup of tea had thawed her hands, but her feet still felt as if they were in the snow.
“Are you alright?” Darcy asked.
“My feet are still cold.”
“Then allow me,” he said as he knelt down and started to take off her boots.
“You don’t have to.”
“I insist. After all, you are my guest,” he said as his hand gently held her foot. “You are cold, I can feel it through your socks.”
“I’ll soon warm up,” she replied.
The door opened and the cold air whisked into the room along with Mr Reynolds. He closed the door quickly and stamped his feet to rid himself of the snow.
“My, it’s coming down thick now,” he remarked.
“Bernard Reynolds, what are you doing stamping all that snow over my clean floor?” Mrs Reynolds told him.
“Sorry Judith, I’ll get a mop, shall I?”
“Oh, leave it be,” she replied.
“I suppose there is tea in the pot?”
“Aye, there is.”
“What luck did you have with Miss Bennet’s car?” Darcy asked.
“I couldn’t get it to start, but I towed it back on the frame. Oh, here Miss, I have your bag,” he said as he wheeled a suitcase out from behind him. “Reminds me of my old mum’s shopping trolley when I was a nipper. She used to let me sit in it when we went down to the shops. It was like riding in the teacups at the fun fair. Course I had to walk home because of the groceries, she always said how a dozen eggs and a small boy don’t mix,” he smiled in memory of it all.
“That’s enough with your reminiscing, now drink your tea,” his wife smiled.
“Thank you, Mr Reynolds,” Elizabeth said.
“It was no trouble, and call me Bernard, so few people do nowadays.”
“I suppose all those friends of yours down the pub call you Maureen,” Mrs Reynolds teased.
“How did you guess?” he winked at his wife before he put his cup down and cuddled her around the waist.
“Be off with you,” she giggled. “Or you’ll have me scorch my ironing.”
Darcy took Elizabeth’s other boot off and started to rub her feet with his hands.
“That should get your circulation going,” he said. “What you really need is a bowl of hot water,” Darcy smiled.
“I’m not surprised. I picked Miss Elizabeth up on the old Ehle Way. That’s easy two-mile, which may well be nothing in the summer but in this deep snow, it’s hard going. Her car was at least half a mile back down the road. I dare say she is chilled to the bone.”
Mrs Reynolds looked up from her ironing.
“Forget a bowl of hot water, what this young lady needs is a hot bath,” she insisted.
“You don’t have to really, my feet will warm up in time,” Elizabeth replied.
“Nonsense,” Darcy said as he let her feet go and stood up. “Mrs Reynolds is obviously right. Of course, you’ll have to use mine, it’s the only one in the house that is frequently used now. If you follow me, I’ll run it for you.”
“I could run it, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Reynolds offered.
“It’s alright, I can be trusted to turn on a few taps and put in a plug,” he replied.
Elizabeth got up from her chair and collected her suitcase from where Mr Reynolds had left it. Darcy waited for her at the head of the corridor which led away from the kitchen and further into the ground floor of the house. She had been this way once before when Darcy had taken her out riding with Georgiana. They had come back through the kitchen, but then they had turned right, up the stairs to the main house. Now he led her further along the corridor, past the pantry and the silver room, and into the butler’s quarters.
“I’m in here now,” he stated. “It’s cheaper to heat and all in all it is a lot cosier than the house ever was. Luckily for me, Pippin, who was my grandfather’s butler, always insisted on being close to the pantry and the silver. So, it is really more like a flat than anything.”
She wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to convince her or himself of his contentment at living below stairs. Either way, it wasn’t convincing enough to really deceive either of them.
“The bathroom is just through here, I won’t be a minute,” Darcy said before he disappeared into another room.
Elizabeth looked around at what his life had been reduced to. The sitting room was small and cluttered, the mantle above the fire was brimming with unopened letters and piles of books sat on nearly every flat surface she could see. Family photos jostled for space on the walls, she was surprised to see a photo of herself amongst them.
She noticed another open door, which was obviously the bedroom. An old brass bed could be seen with the bedding in disarray.
“Your bath is nearly ready,” Darcy said as he returned to the room. “But the radiator in there is playing up a little, so I’ll light a fire for you in here, so you can get dressed.”
She blushed a little as he noticed her glance to his bedroom.
“Ah,” he said as he went and closed the door. “I haven’t made the bed yet. Promise not to tell Mrs Reynolds.”
“I promise.”
“Um, I take it your family are all well?” he asked.
“They were when I left this morning, and Georgiana?”
“Oh, she is doing very well in London. I suppose you should really phone them to tell them where you are. You can use the phone in here or the kitchen, you won’t get reception with your mobile.”
“I hadn’t even thought about that, but you’re right, you know my mother.”
“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you to get undressed.”
“Thank you for everything,” she replied.
“Oh, it’s always a pleasure,” he said as he paused at the door. “It’s good to see you Elizabeth.”
“It’s good to see you too,” she replied.
∞ ∞ ∞
Chapter Eight
Bubble Bath and Phone Calls
The bath was as warm and as welcoming as a lover’s embrace. Elizabeth let her body sink below the deep bubble covered water, warming her limbs and chasing away the chill of the winter’s day. She could hear Darcy in the other room. She could hear him building up the fire, laying the wood down in the grate, piling up the kindling and finally the striking of the match to light it.
The bathroom was spartan but clean. She had wondered where he had gotten the bubble bath from, but she had been even more touched that he had thought about it.
A gentle tap came at the door.
“Hello,” she said.
“Your fire is lit. Mrs Reynol
ds says that dinner should be ready in about half an hour. But if you want longer, I could ask her to delay it a little,” Darcy said from the other side of the door.
“No, it’s fine. Where did you get bubble bath from?” she asked as she held up her bubble covered hand.
“Oh, Georgiana left some last time she visited.”
“I see.”
“I’ve left you some towels on the chair. Can you see them?” he asked.
Elizabeth had noticed them.
“Yes, I can.”
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.
“Well, I could do with somebody to wash my back,” she replied.
Even with a door between them, she knew he was blushing.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said.
And for a moment she thought she could hear his smile in his voice.
The fire had warmed the room, filling it with crackling sounds as she had dried herself and gotten dressed. Darcy had left her his dressing gown on the sofa. It smelt of clean cotton and thyme. She had felt strange when she put it on. It was too big on her, but for the briefest of moments, she felt like she was wrapped in his arms. Elizabeth realised how long she had been lying to herself about her feelings for Darcy. She thought how cruel fate could be. Once he had declared his love for her and she had thrown it back in his face. She wondered if she were to do the same now, would he be as cruel a she had been?
The daylight had gone leaving only the fire for light. She looked for the light switch and eventually found a lamp which clicked into life. It lit up the phone alongside it, reminding her of the call she needed to make. She picked up the receiver and smiled at the rotary dial. As she dialled each number, she waited for the dial to come back into place and wondered how anyone ever made a phone call in a hurry without buttons.
“Hello, my name’s Alice and I like ponies and unicorns and chocolate and teddy bears,” came her niece’s voice.
“Alice, this is Auntie Lizzy can you put your mummy on?”
“No,” she replied.
“Alice, I’ll tell the Easter Bunny that you’ve been naughty.”
“No.”
“Alice, who is on the phone?” Jane’s voice sounded in the distance.
“Auntie Lizzy,” she replied.
“I want to speak to Auntie Lizzy,” she could hear Henry shout.
“No.”
“Give Mummy the phone, Alice.”
“No.”
“Lizzy, bear with me a minute,” Jane called.
Elizabeth grinned, she knew this battle well. Alice loved talking on the telephone, just like her granny. And it was a constant fight to get to the phone before her.
“Alright, thank you Alice. Henry, say hello to Auntie Lizzy,” Jane said, obviously winning the battle.
“Hello Auntie Lizzy,” Henry shouted.
“Hello Henry.”
“Ah, finally. I’ve been trying to get them to bed for the past half hour, but it’s still snowing outside, and they think they can go out and build another snowman even in the dark. Now Lizzy, where are you? Because Lydia rang earlier and she had no idea that you were meant to be coming,” Jane asked.
“I’m in Pemberley.”
“No, how did you get in?”
“I have my ways.”
“Are you staying there tonight?”
“I hope so, I’m only wearing a dressing gown.”
“Lizzy!”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t use my feminine wiles. I’ve just come out of a bath.”
“Oh, I see. How is he?”
“Not himself.”
“I was worried he wasn’t. Do you think you can help?”
“I hope so Jane. I really do.”
She made Jane promise to phone their mother to tell her she was safe in a B and B. Elizabeth didn’t want to face her mother’s barrage of questions in fear she might give in and tell her she was in Pemberley.
Now dressed, she took out her slippers from her suitcase and put them on, then headed back to the kitchen. The smell of Mrs Reynolds cottage pie had spread throughout the ground floor. You only needed to follow the delicious smell to find your way to the kitchen.
“That smells lovely,” Elizabeth remarked as she came into the room.
“Well there is plenty of it, so there is no need to worry about asking for second helpings,” Mrs Reynolds smiled.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“You can pass me those plates from the warmer. But be careful they’re hot.”
Darcy was nowhere to be seen.
Elizabeth took a pair of oven gloves and took the plates out of the warmer and placed them on top of the Aga. Whilst Mrs Reynolds started to dish the cottage pie up onto the first plate, when she was done, she nodded to Elizabeth to take it over to the kitchen table. Four places had been set. She was glad to realise that he hadn’t been dining alone. As she took the second plate to the table, Darcy returned from the cellar carrying a bottle of wine in his hands.
“Nice slippers,” he said to her.
She looked down at her fluffy slippers and wiggled her toes inside them.
“They were a present from Henry and Alice.”
“As were mine,” he said.
“Wine, you are spoiling me,” she smiled.
“I wouldn’t get too excited until you’ve tasted it,” he teased.
“I hope you brought up a nice bottle of red,” Mrs Reynolds added.
“Well it’s definitely red,” Mr Reynolds said as he took the jug of gravy over to the table as Darcy started to pour the wine. “However, I myself prefer a nice glass of stout with cottage pie.”
“You prefer a glass of stout with anything,” Mrs Reynolds replied.
Darcy pulled out Elizabeth’s chair for her as she took her seat. Mr Reynolds had already sat down and was helping himself to a slice of bread.
“Bernard Reynolds, where are your manners?” his wife asked.
“Oh sorry, did you want a slice of bread?” he asked Elizabeth.
“I meant my seat.”
“Oh.”
“Allow me,” Darcy said as he pulled out her chair for her.
“He thinks more of my gravy than he does of me,” she said taking her seat.
“I can’t help it if your gravy has mesmerizing effects.”
“Gravy that makes you forget your manners, well that’s a new one on me,” she grinned.
The dinner was a welcome change from her normal family dinners. Here there was no nagging from her mother or general disinterest from her distracted father. Lydia was not mentioned after every few sips of water or wine, and the only gossip that flowed was nothing to do with her lack of a boyfriend or significant other.
After generous portions of pear and chocolate crumble with plenty of custard to follow, she helped Mrs Reynolds with the dishes, whilst Darcy and Mr Reynolds brought in some more wood for the fire and the shovel for the snow in the morning.
“Like I said, I’ve made up the sofa in the housekeeper’s room. It is comfortable and roomy enough, I’ve had many a pleasant afternoon’s nap on that myself,” Mrs Reynolds told her. “Miss Georgiana sleeps in there when she comes home. Not that she does that often now. The mattress needs replacing on the bed in there and until I can get them to bring one down from upstairs, it will have to be the sofa.”
“Really, I don’t want to put you to any trouble, the sofa will be fine,” Elizabeth reassured her.
“Well if you are sure. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure if any of those mattresses would fit. Mind you it will be warmer when Mr Darcy and Bernard get the fire going in there, although I must admit, it has been a while since I’ve had one in there.”
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Oh, in the cottage just across the way. It used to be the carriage house, but Mr Darcy’s father had part of it converted when we got married. You don’t have to worry about us, it’s only a short walk and I’m home.”
“So, he’s alone in the ho
use at night?” she asked.
“Yes Miss Elizabeth, he has been for many a year.”
Darcy and Mr Reynolds came spluttering out of the housekeeper’s room, as did the smell of smoke.
“You can’t sleep in there, the chimney’s blocked,” Darcy explained.
“Well, there is always the spare room in the cottage,” Mr Reynolds suggested.
“It’ll be fine,” Elizabeth reassured them.
“But you’ll freeze,” Darcy said.
“Nonsense, it’s next to the kitchen and the fire has been going all day, so it will be warm enough.”
“What about the smoke?” he asked.
Mrs Reynolds took a glance at Elizabeth and dried her hands in a towel.
“Oh, men are always so easily defeated,” she said as she led Elizabeth into the housekeeper’s room.
The room was colder than the kitchen, but she doubted that she would notice it under the large quilt and two blankets that Mrs Reynolds had placed on the sofa for her. She watched as Mrs Reynolds quickly opened the window to the room and fanned it back and forth to get rid of the smoke. Unfortunately, she let in more cold air at the same time.
“There,” she said sniffing the air with satisfaction. “The smoke has gone. Now all you need to do is leave the door open to the kitchen and the room will soon warm up.”
Elizabeth watched as her breath formed in front of her in the air and hoped that Mrs Reynolds was right.
∞ ∞ ∞
Chapter Nine
A Night Cap
Darcy and Elizabeth had watched Mr and Mrs Reynolds walk home across the courtyard to their cottage. Only when they were inside, and the light came on in the hallway did he close the door. He turned to Elizabeth and smiled. She wondered how many nights he had closed this door to find himself alone for yet another night, with no one to talk to and seemingly, no one to care.
“Do you fancy a nightcap?” he asked.
“Why not?” she replied.
Inside his sitting room, he poured them each a glass of port into fine crystal glasses, which Elizabeth had admired many years ago. She sat on the sofa whilst Darcy had chosen what she presumed was his usual seat, a high-backed leather chair next to the fire. She abandoned her slippers to the floor and let her feet glory in the warmth of the flames.
