'We've all felt the power of Mr Fielding's music, Your Highness, we'll just let you recover in your own time. I suppose you must be feeling your wet and cold ride as well. Please do not put yourself out, we'll entertain each other and you may join in once you feel like it.'
Should Anne be so kind, could it bring anything but trouble, with Prince George already partial to her? But maybe they shouldn't hold his reputation against him so much, he was a reasonable man, why judge him by what the papers said about him? Though Elizabeth did remember a certain proposal.
Nothing special happened during dinner, except that they had it in the incredibly ornate formal dining room that Elizabeth had saved from Fitzwilliam's urge to modernise his houses, and maybe his fear of being judged for the extravagance of his illustrious ancestors. Appreciation for style was an excellent trait in a man of means but one which would have been
taken too far if it had caused this lovely, authentic-looking room to be destroyed. Despite the opulence, dinner was much the same as usual, the conversation lively but slightly more general than other evenings. They decided to go out for a ride the next day if the weather permitted, and for a few moments the prince came back to life and begged to be included in their party. Of course they hadn't even considered not taking him along, and Fitzwilliam even meant his heartfelt invitation.
The food was their usual as well, which was really good, though not up to royal standards. But Prince George didn't seem to notice at all, he ate heartily, and when Simon brought the cook's efforts at confectionery his eyes lighted up once more. There was no chocolate, nor any exotic fruits, but it was a creditable walnut-and-honey concoction with marzipan, and they all enjoyed it very much, the prince no less despite his employing two French pastry chefs himself.
It was a sign how much Simon belonged to their household that Elizabeth didn't think anything of his helping with the serving, in a Pemberley livery, until he winked at her when he took away her plate. She could barely hold back a cry of surprise, he wasn't even part of their staff anymore, and Frederick hated it when he had to stay in the back of the house, let alone help with the serving! He had probably begged Mrs Reynolds to be allowed to serve something, anything, to get a glimpse of the company gathered at the table. And waiting to clear up after them afforded him an opportunity to watch them that much longer. Nobody really took note of servants, though Prince George might be the exception, he apparently distrusted them, and rightfully so, since most loved to gossip.
Still, it wouldn't do to tell Simon right here that she was onto him, it could only give their friends' involvement away, so she merely smiled at him and thanked him for his service. Soon after, the ladies retreated to the drawing-room, where they played the piano for half an hour, Anne proving she had not neglected to practise despite all the distractions of the last few weeks.
Once the gentlemen returned Eric and Georgiana would probably provide the music, and Elizabeth and Anne would take up their work and continue to perfect the little dresses they were working on.
Half an hour turned into three quarters of an hour, and then the mood among the gentlemen seemed the total reverse of what it had been before: Prince George was almost exuberant, though still the perfect gentleman, and he was talking with energy with Frederick, of all people. Elizabeth had truly
expected the prince to remain slightly aloof towards a man who was supposed to be intimate with his father, but apparently Frederick's easy manners had won over even the Prince of Wales.
'You say he is not going to spoil me for court garb? I can get away with wearing pantaloons, but a black cravat is absolutely impossible. My advisors would slap my wrist instantly, maybe even literally.
I must say, Manners, I appreciate your offer, I've been feeling slightly grubby for the last three days, it was such a brave idea to go haring off with just a few guards and two of my youngest courtiers, but I have missed Enrique more than a little. You know he speaks little English, but I don't mind, it forces me to keep my Spanish up to snuff.'
Elizabeth wondered whether Spanish was difficult to learn, but she could understand the prince employing a foreign valet, since such a man would neither have many friends to gossip to, nor the right connections to spill harmful knowledge about his master and his household to the newspapers.
'Simon is as English as breakfast tea, a born Londoner actually, but he is clean, attentive and very close-mouthed. You'll feel better straight away. I'll have him step by your room tonight, he can help you bathe and set your wardrobe to rights so you can ride out with us tomorrow without worrying about having things cleaned or starched. Of course he'll be over in the morning to help you dress.'
'Won't that inconvenience you, Manners? I don't want to impose on you.'
'No problem, there will be plenty of time left for Simon to spend on me.'
Hadn't Anne warned Frederick against being smart with Prince George? Did he want the man to find out how much time Frederick spent with his valet?
And what would Simon thinking of having to take care of the crown prince?
Well, they probably discussed that before Frederick offered, and it wasn't any of Elizabeth's business anyway.
'Mrs Darcy, may I join you and Mrs Manners in your cosy corner here? I promise I will try not to distract you from your work.'
The charmer was back, hopefully Fitzwilliam would manage to control himself.
'You certainly may, Your Highness, we can work and chat at the same time.'
Anne looked like a painting of the Madonna, dressed in white muslin, a lamp set out to help her see her work illuminating her blonde drooping curls from behind, stitching a seam in what was obviously a baby's garment. Prince George watched her with a mixture of adulation and vague terror. He couldn't
think she was with child within three weeks of her wedding, could he? Anne didn't seem to notice his attention, she merely set a few tiny, precise stitches, then looked up as if unaware of the prince watching her. Finally seeing him she said, 'Oh, I'm sorry Your Highness, I didn't notice you coming in, I'm not as good as I'd like to be at this, not yet. I need to pay attention or I'll have to pull out stitches and that never gives a good result. Do you like it so far?'
With only Frederick sitting there she'd never had any trouble at all, stitching and chatting at the same time, Anne was certainly clever enough for the Prince of Wales, keeping an eye on him with him none the wiser.
'Oh, ah, um...' she really had him now, he sounded acutely uncomfortable, but this was not a shy boy, this was a man raised to rule a country. He recuperated quickly and replied with humour, 'I guess it must be beautiful, but I really cannot tell the quality of the fabric and of your work from here.
Might I sit a little closer and do it justice?'
Clever fox, she could just hand it to him for a brief inspection. Although that wasn't always a good idea, the little dress was made of a pristine white satin and would show every blemish a torn callus or broken nail might inflict on it.
But Anne didn't mind playing along with the prince, and she looked at the seat right next to her to invite him over. Of course he changed seats in a bare second, sat as close to Anne as was still proper, and intently studied the beautiful satin dress, embroidered with simple geometrical shapes, no flowers on this dress for it was destined for Alexander Spencer, Anne's little nephew.
Prince George even dared pose the question, though very discreetly.
'Is that a little child's dress?'
Anne beamed and replied, 'Isn't it beautiful? Can you imagine a baby not looking like a little angel in it?'
Perfect, but that wasn't what Prince George wanted to know. Had Mrs Manners been with child even before she got married? Had she married a plain and slightly older, but wealthy and entertaining gentleman to cover up a dangerous liaison that had left her with child? Would she consider a few nights spent in another exciting affair? The harm had been done anyway. No, Elizabeth berated herself, that was letting her imagination take too many liberties, Anne look
ed more like an angel than an adulteress, not even the worldly-wise prince could suspect the truth.
'It's absolutely beautiful, Mrs Manners. Those aren't flowers, are they?'
'No, they aren't. It's for a boy, you see.'
Elizabeth imagined she could see him think, how did she know it was a boy?
But Anne wasn't cruel and relieved the pain of his curiosity.
'It's for my cousin's boy, Your Highness.'
'Mr Darcy is your cousin, isn't he?'
Now Prince George looked at Elizabeth in wonder, as if to see signs that she was carrying a baby boy. Anne smiled cheekily and observed, 'I have two other cousins, Your Highness. Alexander Spencer Compton is a month old by now, and according to his father the most beautiful child in all of England.'
'So you're sewing for your cousin's baby?'
'Yes, it feels so good to do something useful and beautiful. I was very sick for ten years, you see, I never could do anything at all. And now I feel much better and I want to make up for lost time, but somehow I'm so much older and wiser that embroidering centre pieces at my level of skill seems a waste of time and materials. And beading purses and covering screens is for young girls, I prefer to spend my time and resources to a purpose.'
Prince George's face had fallen, as if he'd imagined beautiful Anne ailing.
'No, Mrs Manners, please tell me you didn't suffer for ten years!'
'I wasn't in pain so I wouldn't call it suffering, Your Highness, I was merely listless and lacking energy. Which is why I'm very glad to be at Pemberley now, learning to ride and shoot, and working on a tiny dress.'
'But... you look so healthy now. Did you find a miracle cure?'
'I didn't need a miracle cure, Your Highness, my mother had her quack doctor bleed me twice a week, nearly costing me my life and certainly my youth.
Getting away from him meant a quick recovery.'
Now the prince was truly stunned, shocked, really.
'You said you were ill for ten years. Do you mean to say that was all due to bloodletting?'
'It was, Your Highness. A London doctor estimated how much blood my mother's favourite had taken, then said I might have felt weak but I must be very strong for a lot of people would have died of the loss of so much of their life's blood. No doctor or surgeon is ever going to come near me again with a lancet.'
'Mrs Manners, what you say disturbs me greatly. I do not see my father very often but I know he is often a little indisposed, and I also know he has regular bloodlettings. You mean to say that is harmful? I have in fact been bled sometimes myself, I cannot say I felt much better afterwards, but I didn't feel about to die. Are you certain you weren't unknowingly afflicted with some dangerous illness?'
He meant consumption, Elizabeth could just see it in him, but no-one ever recovered from consumption.
'What illness could have drained my life and spirit for ten years, then disappear in a matter of four weeks without leaving a trace, Your Highness? I was bled twice a week for a decade, I lost enough blood to cover the floor of this whole room. But please let us not talk any longer about that terrible waste of years, I'm perfectly healthy now and eager to make up for lost time: I am going to ride and fish and ramble all summer, and then I'm going to dance and frequent parties and the theatre all winter.'
'I believe you, Mrs Manners, and I will heed your request, you have indeed suffered enough. Just one thing, if you please: should I warn my father about the bloodletting? I'm rather worried that something similar is happening to him. They can be so hard to refuse, those physicians with their wise words, but when one is not feeling well what is to be done but trust to their one treatment? I'm very healthy but I remember being ill sometimes, one's will becomes as weak as one's body.'
Anne now became very serious.
'I would indeed try to warn your father. But most people believe their doctors and would not listen. What if you were to send for the doctor who advised me the right food to regain my strength quickly? His name is Dr Parker, my husband can help you find him. He makes a strong case against bloodletting and is an outstanding physician, he knows the human body like no other.
Looks the part, too, which is not unimportant when trying to convince a powerful man that something he has believed in all his life is actually harming him. For do not be mistaken, Your Highness, though you are a hale man in your prime, even to you a bloodletting does more harm than good.
Your father may very well be suffering more, and as his complaints increase so will his doctors increase the amount of blood they steal from him. They prey on the sick.'
'You have convinced me. No bloodletting for me, no matter how ill I were to get, and I will contact this doctor and try to think of a way to let my father know his danger. Maybe my mother will listen to reason. Thank you very much, and now we will close this subject, I would not inconvenience you for the world, or you might refuse to visit Carlton House this winter when you are in town.'
Anne was learning to play the game quickly, she showed no sign of pleasure or dismay at this prospect. Instead, she nodded pleasurably and changed the
subject altogether, never stopping setting neat stitches in the hem of the tiny satin dress.
'Is it true that you love sweets, Your Highness?'
'According to some reporters it's my least offensive vice, Mrs Manners. So yes, I admit I am very fond of sweets. I just loved that strange-looking concoction we had tonight, I think I may have had too many rare ingredients lately, I'd forgotten how tasteful honey and nuts can be. Though I wish you could taste some of my confectioners' works, Mrs Manners, like Mrs Darcy here. You liked their creations, didn't you?'
Elizabeth had certainly loved the prince's chocolate in any shape, and though Anne hadn't liked sweets at all when they had first gotten to really know her, she had appreciated Mr Blackwood's special pies, and Mrs Brewer's pie when they'd visited her about a week after her return from London. Mrs Brewer!
Why hadn't they thought of her? Prince George would love her pastries, pies and sweets, although she'd die on the spot if he visited and she knew he was the Prince of Wales. Who was waiting for an answer, watching Elizabeth with humour.
'I'm sorry, your question reminded me of a delicious pie I ate recently. I loved your cakes and hot chocolate and sweets, and not just their taste. They were so incredibly beautiful!'
'Dare we ask Mrs Brewer to be allowed to visit? I think His Highness would love her work, art as well as pie.'
So Anne had introduced this subject thinking of visiting Juliette Brewer! That worthy woman hadn't been as shy as Elizabeth expected when she had taken Georgiana and Anne to see her. Two weeks in town, and seeing a specialist, had done the steward's wife a world of good.
'I'm not as strange as I thought, Mrs Darcy,' she'd told Elizabeth, visibly relieved, 'Mrs Annesley told me a lot of people in London dress like I do, and she is such a great artist herself, she understands so perfectly how I feel living among women who care only for keeping a pristine house or sewing useful things. We had dinner with her and her husband and children, and she showed me her most precious works, at her home. They were all beautiful, and yet her house was as immaculate as any I've seen.'
As if Juliette's house hadn't been spotless, with two young boys and without even the help of a maid! Where did they find the time to do so many things?
Elizabeth had felt a little bit lacking compared to Mrs Annesley and Mrs Brewer. As well as a bit envious of the trust Mrs Brewer had gained from
Mrs Annesley to have been invited to meet her husband, still failing but hanging onto life to see his children grow up. But of course Mrs Brewer had no other connections in London, and she was of Mrs Annesley's level of society and an artist like her. And maybe Mrs Annesley had had a second objective, showing the younger couple the tragedy in her life to inspire them to cope with their own.
'And Mrs Annesley advised me to not just see Dr Parker, but also a midwife who had seen to your friend Mrs Collins when she had some trouble
during her stay in your London house. So we visited her as well, in a totally different neighbourhood, but she was so kind, and so knowledgeable, we talked for at least an hour, and she asked as many questions as the doctor did, and many of the same. She advised me some herbal remedies and assured me most women in her practice who had lost a child were able to have a healthy baby afterwards, especially when they already had children. I was so relieved, Mrs Darcy, after that I was able to have the time of my life at the theatre, and shopping at Miss Filliger's like you said, I'll wear those dresses to church and my own at home.
Thank you so much, Mrs Darcy, you and Mr Darcy, for pushing Nathan to go to London. I didn't want to but it was the best thing to do.'
Again, Anne and Prince George were watching her with a twinkle in their eyes.
'You're so much less tense, Mrs Darcy, I'm afraid Carlton House was not your natural habitat, you talked easily enough but I suppose you were constantly on your guard. I can imagine, for even I am often on my guard there though it's my home. I'm not insensitive to the Pemberley atmosphere. Or maybe it's just being among honest people who don't want anything from me. But please tell me about Mrs Brewer, I have a feeling I really want to meet her, and see her art and try her pie.'
So they told him about the organic shapes made of iron decorating her house and garden, and of the delicious pie she concocted from fresh local ingredients and home-grown fruits.
'You say she grows peaches, here in the north? Can that be done?'
Frankly, Elizabeth didn't know a thing about growing anything, she knew how to cook and preserve most vegetables and fruits but she had never had an interest in the Longbourn kitchen garden. Of course at Pemberley even the kitchen was someone else's territory, and the gardeners did all the growing.
Fitzwilliam and Frederick might know, but they seemed to have disappeared.
Maybe they were playing billiards, to give their spouses the opportunity to chat with the Prince of Wales without having their own baser feelings stirred.
Pemberley Page 27
