by Maria Grace
“It would seem we have a problem.” Fitzwilliam laced his fingers and tapped his thumbs. “I do not relish the thought of packs of expectant children and their parents arriving on the grounds with nothing to greet them.”
“You must tell everyone it is canceled, brother. We cannot possibly manage … I cannot …” Georgina flapped her hands like a nervous hen.
“I am reluctant to withdraw yet another invitation.”
“It would look rather badly on the estate,” Mr. Gardiner nodded slowly, forehead drawn tight. “Such things can reflect poorly on the family, I am afraid. Children can be most unforgiving of disappointment.”
“Have any preparations been made?” Mrs. Gardiner looked squarely at Georgiana.
“Elizabeth and I spoke with Mrs. Reynolds and Cook about refreshments and biscuits. Supplies may have been ordered, but I do not know for certain.” Georgiana squirmed and stared at the table.
“Then there is very little problem at all.” Mrs. Gardiner tapped the table.
“What do you mean?” Georgiana asked.
“With the Darcys’ permission, I would be happy to assist you. Planning a picnic is not so very difficult. I am certain we can make the necessary arrangements and welcome the children and their parents for several hours of good fun without taxing anyone’s good nature.”
“I do not think it a good idea.” Georgiana pushed her chair back from the table.
“I think it is a splendid notion and a very generous one of you, Mrs. Gardiner.” Fitzwilliam lifted an eyebrow toward Georgiana.
“I do not think it a good plan at all. Aunt Matlock is so opposed to the idea. She will be—”
“She does not like anything that she did not propose herself. She will bluster and worry, but in the end, this is Pemberley, not Matlock, and the Darcys, not the Matlocks must be pleased.” Fitzwilliam lifted his glass in a toast.
“Well said, Colonel.” Mr. Gardiner raised his glass to match. “What say you, Darcy?”
“Elizabeth esteems you very greatly. I know she will be very pleased for your assistance.”
He did not have an opportunity to bring the matter to her attention that night, though. She slept, though fitfully, when he arrived in their chambers. Best not wake her. The good news could wait until the morrow.
∞∞∞
The next morning, Elizabeth lay awake, but eyes closed, listening to Darcy’s morning preparations. She had been awake when he slipped out of bed and padded into the dressing room. His valet was as quiet as he. Only hushed words passed between them during his ablutions. Then he slipped out of the door, just as quietly.
The door latch clicked, and she sat up.
Perhaps she should have risen with him, but why invite another demonstration of his displeasure? After he left her in the gallery with nary a word, how could she expect anything else?
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her ankle throbbed with the effort, but the pain was finally subsiding. Though the walking sticks were clumsy and uncomfortable, they did help. Getting out of her room was good, but being able to get downstairs would be better.
Perhaps in a few more days, she would be able to enlist the help of the footmen in getting downstairs, at least once a day. How pleasing it would be to be able to …
To what? To sit at the dining table to meals she did not order? To meet with Mrs. Reynolds, knowing her efforts made no difference at all to the running of the estate? To discover her presence or absence made little impact?
She slumped and caught herself with her hands. Perhaps it was better to keep to herself after all.
But no, the Gardiners had arrived yesterday. Darcy whispered something about that when he came into the room to dress for dinner. The laudanum muddled haze in her head made it difficult to recall.
Dash it all!
No more of that tonic, regardless of how her ankle felt. Mrs. Reynolds knew how to brew willow bark. A strong decoction of that had to be a better option than the confusion and the horrid muzzy feeling the laudanum left in its wake.
She must see Aunt Gardiner. She was the embodiment of sunshine and warmth, and with the fire not chasing away enough of the chill, that was exactly what she needed.
Taking up the walking sticks, she hobbled into the dressing room and rang for her maid. The girl must have been waiting with bated breath for the ring because she seemed to appear instantly.
“Mrs. Gardiner has asked after you, mum, and requests that she might be able to see you when you are well enough.” The maid pinned her hair.
“After I am dressed, and a tray with tea and toast is sent, tell her I am at her disposal.”
The maid disappeared through the servant’s door.
Had she been able, Elizabeth would have paced the room. Instead, all the energy built within, itchy and twitchy in her limbs.
She shook out her hands. That helped, a little.
A dainty knock sounded from the doorway and the door creaked open. “Lizzy?”
“Aunt!” She pulled up on the walking sticks and made her way halfway across the room.
Aunt Gardiner caught her by the elbow as she lost her balance. “Oh, my dear girl, this was not at all how I expected to see you. Here, pray sit down. You are making me nervous just watching you.”
They sat on the small couch near the tea table.
“I have all the grace of a newly born calf, but it is far better than keeping to the fainting couch waiting on someone to carry me to and fro.”
“I can only imagine the torture this has been for you.”
“Of a very special kind, indeed. I suppose if Mama had ever puzzled out what being kept to a single room does to me, she would have had a far more effective way of managing me.”
“How are you faring, Lizzy?”
She turned aside.
“I am worried you know.”
“It will be well, you need not be concerned. How are your rooms?”
“We are very pleased with them. I think it most thoughtful you saw us set up in the family wing. We would much rather be closer to you than ensconced in the fine suites, tucked away where no one can see or hear us.”
“The family wing?”
“You were not aware?”
“There has been some … confusion … as to accommodations … and after I was hurt …”
“Then it was Mr. Darcy’s consideration. I will certainly thank him. He has been quite solicitous.”
“He is most kind.”
“Lizzy. There is something you are not telling me. Do not argue. I know your look very well.”
Elizabeth fell against the back of the couch, eyes closed. What point in denying it? Aunt would draw the truth out of her sooner or later.
“It is difficult to please him. Managing the household here has been more challenging than I was prepared for.”
“What do you mean difficult to please? Pray forgive me, but we saw nothing of the kind at all last night. In fact when Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested we move to the small dining parlor for dinner without his aunt and uncle, he was all accommodations. Even happy for the change.”
“I am glad he was pleased with his cousin’s suggestions. I fear he has not been so pleased with mine.” She clutched her teacup hard.
“He seemed quite content with the Christmas picnic you are planning.”
“Picnic? Georgiana was to plan it, but she said that he told her she did not need to do so. I expected it had been canceled with the ball.”
“That was not at all the impression I received last night. He seemed quite dissatisfied that she had not been working on it and refused to call it off.”
“I am all astonishment.”
“I offered to assist in whatever ways I might.”
“You?”
“I thought you would be unable, but I am happy to see that I am wrong. I expect you are very disappointed about the ball. But we might still be able to offer some sort of hospitality at the estate.”
“I am without words. Truly I do
not know what to say. All this is so very different to what I understood. I am pleased by the notion, but very confused.”
“My dear, you need to have a conversation with your husband.” She peered deeply into Elizabeth’s eyes. “You have not been talking very much have you?”
“He has been busy, and I have been indisposed.”
Aunt slapped the seat of the couch. “Do not offer such flimsy excuses. I know your headstrong nature. I have seen how overbearing he can be when attempting to care for those he loves. That is not a combination apt to produce peace. Truly, you must swallow your pride and talk to him. I believe you will be surprised at what you hear.”
“In truth, I dread what I will hear. I am certain he will be quite displeased with me. I am not used to that, at least from anyone but Mama. I … I do not like inviting censure.”
“None of us do. But, marriage is not for cowards. You must fortify yourself and discuss these matters with him. I am certain there have been substantial misunderstandings all around.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I suppose that is possible. I will consider what you say.”
“Good girl. Now, your delightful Mrs. Reynolds has helped me gather all the notes that have been made regarding the picnic. I thought you would like to go over them with me and see what there is yet to do.”
Aunt Gardiner was right; it felt good to be useful again. And perhaps, since Aunt and Georgiana were involved, Darcy would not feel the need to correct all her planning once again.
∞∞∞
Darcy sat in his study, examining a neatly penciled list. Elizabeth’s handwriting was nearly as pleasant as her voice, and had been all he had heard from her in days now. Sharing the same room with her should have ensured they would talk, but he heard barely more now than before.
Her aunt seemed encouraging though. She delivered the list into his hands, assuring him planning the picnic had much improved Elizabeth’s spirits.
Should he tell her he would much rather stage the picnic than the ball? It was far more agreeable to him to be able to mingle amongst his farmers—who would inevitably accompany their children on an outing at the manor—and discuss the fields and flocks over a pint of cider than to wander about in fine clothing, wondering whom he would offend next.
Yes, this was a splendid plan indeed. No doubt she understood that though.
In the spring, they could have a ball, if she wished.
Stomping and swishing of skirts preceded an unladylike pounding at his door. “Darcy!”
He dropped the list and threw his head back into the chair. “Enter.”
Aunt Matlock stormed inside, a rustling mass of silk and temper. She planted herself before his desk, arms folded over her chest.
“What may I do for you?” Darcy rose to his feet. How convenient that he might tower over her this way. She needed the reminder this was not her domain to rule.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“What are you talking about?”
Perhaps Fitzwilliam was right; she was going a bit daft.
“I heard the kitchen talking about baking biscuits for a picnic.”
What was she doing in the kitchen?
“What of it. They have their assignment. I do not see why it is any matter to you.”
“I thought that nonsense had been finally put to rest. You cancelled the ball; you cancelled everything. Just as you should have. All of these ill-conceived notions to entertain this season, you put them to rest.”
“You misunderstood. Surely Elizabeth cannot manage a ball in her condition, however, the picnic, with the help of her aunt—”
“That woman? You would have her help planning, but not mine? She is in trade!”
“I believe it is her husband who is in trade.”
“Do not get smart with me, young man. They are in trade. What do they know of society or how to manage … anything?”
Far more than Matlock whose debts grew faster than the estate’s income.
“Why is that of any concern to you?”
“The Darcy name? The reputation of Pemberley? Is that not of any matter to you?”
“Of course it is.”
“Then why do you insist upon tarnishing it with events planned without proper—”
“Proper what?”
“What does your country hoyden know about society events?”
“A picnic for children is hardly a society event.”
“The parents will attend.”
“The guests are the residents of Pemberley. I do not think that qualifies as the height of fashionable society.”
“Exactly my point. It is abhorrent that the first time you entertain, you snub those of your quality in favor of … of … the lower classes. I told you, Lady Catherine and I both told you, this is what would happen. The quiet denigration of Pemberley’s standing. Vulgar mushrooms springing up in the shade of an ancient and noble family. And you seem happy to aid and abet them. How can you?”
“Vulgar mushrooms? Are you referring to my wife or my tenants? Neither is an acceptable analogy I assure you. I just prefer to recognize the level to which I have been insulted before I make my reply.” Darcy clenched his fists behind his back.
She drove her index finger into his chest. “You have been insulted? What of us? Do you not comprehend how very disagreeable it is to be given bad connections when one is not accustomed to them?”
“What bad connections?”
“That uncle in trade. I find it insulting to be tied to such.”
“At least he pays his debts. He has not collectors hounding his door. I dare say, neither he nor his family have ever had the threat of debtor’s prison held over their heads. I cannot say the same for you.”
“Do not discuss the Viscount. That is no matter of yours and has nothing to do—”
“It has everything to do with this! You declare her connections ridiculous and disagreeable. In truth, I do not have to look nearly so far to find disagreeable and ignoble connections; sufficient reside in my own family for both of us. I should thank her for being willing to take on my connections and sully herself with them.”
Oh, Aunt Matlock did not like that at all.
Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper. “This is not to be borne, I tell you. I will not be insulted in this manner.”
“You brought it on yourself, madam. Recall, I am not the one who sought you out, demanding you manage your family according to my standards.”
“Insolent, impudent boy!”
“I beg you to recall, I am not a boy, madam. I am Master of this estate and you are a guest in my house.”
“A dubious honor at best.”
“One that you need not have imposed upon yourself.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I do not make threats. It is simply an option that is open to you.”
But he could make it a threat if it would help.
“How dare you! I know how to act. I will, I will, do not mistake me. I will.”
“Then be about it quickly. My staff, and I dare say my wife, have been sufficiently inconvenienced by you. They need not endure anymore.” He pointed toward the door.
She turned crimson and sputtered, stamped and huffed.
He sat at his desk and raised the list before his face.
She stomped out and slammed the door behind her.
Heavens what had he done?
Mother would be … would she be upset, or would she be proud he had stood up to Aunt Matlock? It was not as if she and Mother ever got along very well to begin with. At the very least, Mother would have laughed at the show of temper to which Lady Matlock had been reduced in the hopes of getting her way.
Had she seen, Elizabeth would probably have been amused, if a touch mortified, as well. Perhaps tonight they might share a laugh over it all.
First though, he must return the list to Mrs. Reynolds. They would need more beer and cider. The ladies probably did not anticipate the number of farmers who would happily enjoy
the event with their families.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth relaxed in the small sitting room, reading Lady Anne’s fond memories of Darcy’s breeching and the picnic that followed. Her journal included a small folded envelope containing a lock of his hair, cut in honor of the event. Two little sketches accompanied it. Young Darcy’s profile before and after. The starched, frilled collar of his new skeleton suit must have itched along his neck where his mass of curly locks had been shorn.
He had been a very handsome boy. Not cute, handsome. Even then, he carried a serious dignity about him.
Mrs. Reynolds burst in. “Mrs. Darcy! Mrs. Darcy! There has been such a to-do!”
Elizabeth reached for her walking sticks. “What has happened? Is something wrong with one of the children?”
“Heavens no, it is far worse. The Lady Matlock ordered all their trunks packed immediately. They are departing even as we speak.”
“Departing? What happened?”
“I do not fully know, madam, but I heard such goings on from the master’s study. I fear they have had a great falling out.”
“What did they argue about?”
“I believe I heard the Christmas picnic spoken of in very loud tones.”
No doubt Lady Matlock objected to Aunt Gardiner’s involvement when she herself had been refused the honor.
“I must go downstairs and deal with this immediately.”
“You cannot manage the steps.”
“Call for the two strongest footmen. I will be downstairs if I must crawl there. I would prefer not to, but make no mistake, I will not be dissuaded.”
“Yes, madam.” Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and ran out.
Elizabeth closed the journal carefully and heaved herself up. She tottered to the top of the stairs where two footmen and Mrs. Reynolds met her.
“Carefully, carefully!” she cried as she took Elizabeth’s walking sticks.
The two men linked their arms and formed a chair of sorts and Elizabeth sat down. She slipped her arms over their shoulders. They began their decent, Mrs. Reynolds calling directions from behind them.
