Page 9 of The Winter of Our Discontent
I did not stop to think about my note. If I gave it undue consideration, my courage would fail. I wrote:
Sir–
I am so very sorry you have suffered such a day. Hopefully a night of rest renders you much recovered in the morning.
EMD
Once the note was dispatched, I was free to fret. I would be condemned either way. An expression of sympathy from someone he resented would be wholly unwelcome, while an absence of any acknowledgement he was ill would confirm my inferior upbringing. Much of my life now would require I walk through these dreadfully defeating circumstances in which I was a villain no matter what I did.
Morning found Mr Darcy recovered from his stomach ailment but in the grip of a violent cold. He looked gaunt, pale, and shaken as he and his valet entered the coach, and he promptly turned away from me and stared out the window.
“How long before we reach Pemberley?” I asked his valet in a hushed voice.
“Four hours without rain, ma’am.”
Of course there was rain and plenty of it. We arrived six and a half hours after we left Nottingham. The coach was covered to the roof in a foul-smelling mud, and the horses, poor beasts, were splattered with clods to the top of their heads.
At last, Pemberley became visible in the mist. I noted it was a large house. Nothing else struck me about the place save the delegation standing on the steps with umbrellas. My heart pounded in dread. This army of servants was nothing like the small brigade I faced in London. Had it been only three days ago? It seemed already a year. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the coach, and strode straight-backed to the waiting butler. He was known to me from London, having arrived before us, presumably due to the misery of travelling day and night on the mail coach.
“Welcome to Pemberley, Mrs Darcy,” he said in the ponderous tones of an undertaker.
“Thank you, Mr Harrison.” I turned to the solemn figure standing beside him and said, “You must be Mrs Reynolds. I am sorry to cut short our introductions, but Mr Darcy is ill. I wonder if Romney might have a little help in getting him out of the wet and into his room this instant.”
The entire household must have had their ears on the prick. They swarmed past me to the coach and saw Mr Darcy shuffled up the stairs to his room, leaving Wilson and me standing on the stairs holding our umbrellas. I advanced towards the front door, greeting a few straggling maids left behind in the uproar. Inside the entrance, I saw a tall, pale-faced young lady standing wide-eyed next to a plump matron with a kindly face.
I handed my umbrella and wet cloak to the footman, who had just arrived in the second coach, and went straight to the young lady.
“You must be Miss Darcy,” I said, taking her hands. “How distressing to see your brother helped up the stairs just now, but I believe he is only suffering from a bad cold on top of having been served a ragout thatwas gone off yesterday. I am hopeful a good dose of rest and a bowl of light soup will see him much better in the morning.” I paused and looked at Miss Darcy’s companion without releasing Miss Darcy’s hands. “You must be Mrs Annesley? I am Elizabeth Darcy,” I said with a curtsey, “and I am very pleased to meet you both.”
“Mrs Darcy,” the lady said, “forgive us for our poor manners. We were expecting Mr Darcy to make you known to us.”
“I will not forgive where no offence was given. Our arrival was not what any of us would have wanted it to be. Miss Darcy,” I said, turning back to the girl and squeezing her hands in reassurance before releasing her, “might you do me the great favour of presenting me properly to the housekeeper once Mr Darcy has been settled?”
“Of course,” she said, blushing and looking downcast.
“Might we show you to your room, ma’am?” her companion asked. “I believe Mrs Reynolds has gone down to the kitchen to see to the master’s comforts. We shall bring her to you when he is settled.”
“Bless you, Mrs Annesley. I would dearly love to lie down for half an hour.”
My suite was impossibly grand. A fire burnt in the grate, and at least a dozen lit candles made up for the gloom of the day. My bed, though enormous, was dwarfed by the elegance of my apartment. The draperies hung in heavy, decadent folds of rich brocade with silken tassels that bespoke the luxury of another time or perhaps even another world. An elegant escritoire, polished to a high gleam, a chaise longue in front of a large window, and a dressing room the size of my bedroom at Longbourn, all impressed upon me that I had married a very rich man.
That self-same wealthy man was apparently housed in theadjacent set of rooms. I heard muffled thumps and voices, doors opening and closing, and the footsteps of a platoon of footmen and maids as they trampled to and fro in the hall. Eventually, I heard thebearbark out a sharp command, unintelligible but loud enough to cause the commotion to instantly cease. Thereafter, I heard rustling, tiptoes, and whispers. I took off my shoes, gloves, and bonnet and sank onto the bed while Wilson quietly arranged the few necessaries she took out of my travel case.
“I shall see what the delay is with a tray and some hot water, ma’am,” she said with her lips pressed tightly together.
“I wish you would not. Miss Darcy will be along shortly with the housekeeper, and I am content to wait. I do hope you have a room of your own, though, and that it is not very cold.”
“Pray, Mrs Darcy, make no arrangements for accommodations for me.”
“I suppose to single you out would make your life difficult downstairs?”
“I would just as soon fit in, ma’am.”
Yes, so would I, I wished to confide. The perils, pitfalls, and privileges faced by a new mistress of a grand estate and the similar obstacles presented to her newly hired lady’s maid were tempting matters for discussion. However, a tentative knock on my door had me bolting to my feet and scrambling into the dry slippers Wilson had set out for me.
“Mrs Darcy,” Miss Darcy said haltingly, “may I present our housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds? Mrs Reynolds, this is my brother’s new wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.”
Our greeting was excessively formal. Mrs Reynolds looked severe as she examined me with her nose in the air until she realised, with a start, she was guilty of a gross solecism.
