Page 12 of The Fee Entail

“A very sensible argument, but I have no intention of allowing that fate.”

She simply shrugged. “Six o’clock.”

As she turned to leave, I asked, “Will you object if I set up a pension for Mrs Hewes since my aunt seems to have neglected to?”

“She would appreciate that, as I suspect the lack is just an oversight. She will probably continue to live with me at least for a time.”

“Naturally.”

She looked at me for the first time in recent memory as if I might not be a monster. “Thank you, Mr Darcy. Six o’clock. We do not dress for supper. Please be discreet.”

Once again, she thanked me for doing the most basic duties of a gentleman, and she had not even bothered asking my aunt, probably surmising it was a lost cause. I thought her opinion must be so low that I would have a very long hill to climb to gain her esteem, if it could even be done, but at least I made a start.

If nothing else, I too could be stubborn when it suited me.

Supper

Wed Evening

Darcy

I heard the bell on the door ring as I entered the parsonage and looked around the hall. I was not expecting any servants, so I took off my own coat, hat, and gloves almost as if I were a grown man, and hung them on a rack.

Elizabeth came through the door, and I thought she never looked lovelier. She was wearing a practical dress just like the one for feeding the poultry, but it looked newer and tidier, though she still retained her apron. It buttoned up the front like most working women’s dresses, presumably so she could dress herself without fuss. Her hair was done up in a simple knot and covered with a lace mob cap. She seemed to have cut off quite a bit of her hair, to make it easier to manage, I surmised.

I amused myself for just a moment thinking she either wore the newer dress to dine or dressed to impress, but then I came to my senses. It was more likely what she wore for supper every evening. If she wanted to dress like the gentlewoman she was, she should have all her clothes from Longbourn, or would she? In the despondency of a forced marriage, she may well have given all her clothes to her sisters, for all I knew. Perhaps it was best not to make assumptions. Considering her opinion of me, I would not have been surprised if she hunted down her oldest and shabbiest dress with petticoats six inches deep in mud just to spite me.

Over the previous days, I had given considerable thought to when to confess my involvement in Bingley’s abandonment of Miss Jane Bennet. Elizabeth clearly showed that her eldest sister had real feelings for my friend, as well as a perfectly reasonable expectation of an offer. My rational belief that her heart was unattached was clearly in error. On the other hand, subsequent facts proved beyond doubt that nothing would have dissuaded the Bennet parents from forcing a match on their daughter even without affection… nay, without even a modicum of esteem. They did not even seem to require all that much fortune, as I could see with Elizabeth.

In the end, it truly seemed I was wrong, but based on what I could see at the time, I still believed my desire to protect my friend from a loveless marriage was done for the best. The Bennets, particularly Mrs Bennet, must own their share of the blame. My one true regret was my knowledge that simply waiting a week or taking proper leave would have been the truly gentlemanly thing to do, and Bingley and I both failed, carrying the stink of rank conduct. Who knows what Miss Bingley wrote in that letter Elizabeth referred to? But knowing her, it was probably horrific. We both carried our fair share of guilt, and amazingly, I had not even considered what the gossip would do to the Bennets after our abrupt departure.

The only question was when to disclose my involvement, for disclose it I must if I was to have any hope of even friendship with Elizabeth, let alone… well, best not think too far ahead. The timing was important. Too soon, and I would be tossed from the parsonage unceremoniously on whatever was left of my head. Too late, and I would lose any esteem I may have laboriously garnered. For the moment, I decided to hold my counsel, but knew my period of grace would be short-lived.

I also had to sooner or later broach the subject of whether the two could be reunited, or if Miss Bennet was even interested. Bingley was still unattached, and I suspected his heart could be reengaged in a matter of minutes, but I had no idea how the eldest felt. I hoped the other Bennet sisters did not carry knives. Forgiving such behaviour would be difficult, but if any woman could do it, I imagined Miss Bennet was the one.

Elizabeth was still wearing her stony mask, which I considered an improvement, since I had been in the parsonage for going on two minutes and she had not asked me to leave yet.

She was apparently not in the mood for ceremony.

“This way, Mr Darcy.” She turned to lead through the door into the parlour. It had a small table set just big enough for two. I walked by a dining room that was dark, with the door closed. Looking around, I saw a stairway to the right covered with quilts.

Elizabeth noted my gaze and spoke without the slightest hint of defensiveness.

“Heating rooms takes coal, which costs money and must be laboriously carried up the stairs. I am not destitute, but I choose not to spend my time and money heating rooms I do not occupy. Mrs Hewes and I sleep in the front sitting room Mr Collins once used to stalk the lanes. I keep Mr Collins in his library, and Sergeant MacDonald comes by a few times a day to see to his needs in exchange for some of my poultry, breakfast every day, and a few other meals each week, though I suspect he does it more for the society than anything else.”

She did not slow her pace, so I was prevented from making any reply, which was no doubt for the best. I followed her downstairs to a neat and tidy kitchen. Everything was as clean and orderly as Pemberley’s kitchen with a staff of ten. There was a copper washtub in the corner, which seemed sensible since the water would have to be heated in the kitchen. What point was there in going somewhere else to bathe with two women and one half-corpse in the house? I was impressed, and had to admit that however unusual I might find her decisions, I had yet to encounter any that did not make perfect sense. I thought Elizabeth still expected me to show some form of disapprobation, but that was just a guess, and if that was her goal, she was destined for disappointment.

Elizabeth reached over to open the oven, and taking a towel from the hearth, she reached in to remove the chicken. She set it on a side table, then removed the potatoes as well, dumped them in a small bowl, and handed it to me, along with a pitcher of water and a bowl of butter. Then she simply nodded to the door, indicating I should return to the parlour. I saw a pie on the sideboard, and went back upstairs as instructed, while she removed her apron, folded it neatly, then followed with the chicken and a basket of bread.

As we sat to table, Elizabeth indicated I should carve and serve. She had a particular stillness that had never been present before. I could well remember every interaction with her but could not remember a single time back in Hertfordshire when she did not seem just ready to explode with delight or mischievousness. Caroline Bingley would chide and insult her, and she would just show a hint of laughter in her eyes and say something the woman could not understand. I thought that back at Netherfield, she would deliberately pick the opposite side of an argument with me just for amusement, but those mannerisms were long gone; and, looking back, I had to admit that she often treated me as a slightly more intelligent version of Caroline.

I admitted I was grave and silent more often than not in her company, sometimes due to my reserve, and to be honest, sometimes because she just affected me too much and it… frightened me. In our one lone dance, she could not even stay silent for five whole minutes, in the middle of a ballroom. Now, she looked like she would be perfectly content to remain silent as a lizard until the meal was finished, then retire for the night with nothing but an adieu. It was clearly to be up to me to start a conversation; a reversal so startling I had no idea where to begin.

I finally decided to broach a safe subject. “Are you still fond of walking?”

She may have been surprised I remembered that detail but showed nothing. “I do enjoy it, but not as much as I did. Mr Collins did not allow me to walk unescorted, and since he has been… indisposed, I am too busy for more than an hour here and there. I do like your aunt’s park when I can find the time.”

She looked grave, leaving much unsaid about her time with Collins, and I despaired of finding any safe topic.