A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (9 page)

“You did,” Anne said, looking down. “I asked you to remain here to guide me away from grievous errors, and the first time I disagreed with you, I ignored you.” She raised stricken eyes to Elizabeth. “What if I am never prepared to manage Rosings?”

“Nothing truly disastrous has happened,” Elizabeth said firmly. “We’ll put this to right. Soon Rosings will be running so smoothly, you’ll hardly need to concern yourself with it. All will be well. I wouldn’t condescend to placate you.”

Anne sighed, nodding. She passed a trembling hand across her face. “I must rest,” she said. “Please see that I am not disturbed.” Taking her book with her, she left the room.

Elizabeth stared after her, concerned. She knew Anne was of frail health, but had thought much of that had been prevarication to avoid her mother. Now Elizabeth was forced to wonder how serious Anne’s infirmity was. Her worrying was interrupted as a maid hurried into the room, looking about, though obviously not for Elizabeth.

“May I help you?” Elizabeth asked.

“There are two women to see Miss de Bourgh,” the girl said. “They say they would like to work here. Do you know where she’s gone to, miss?”

“I do,” Elizabeth said. “She’s retired to her room and does not wish to be disturbed.”

“What should I tell them?” the maid asked, wringing her hands.

“Show them into the front parlor,” Elizabeth said. “Please ask Mrs. Allen to join me there. We shall speak with them.”

The maid nodded and hurried away.

Elizabeth turned to look at Mrs. Jenkinson, realizing she was carefully folding her sewing. “Will you assist me in interviewing the women?”

Mrs. Jenkinson gave her a small smile. “I will not. I am sorry, Elizabeth, but Mrs. Allen’s arrival is my opportunity to depart. Miss de Bourgh already released me from her service. I’ve remained for propriety’s sake, hers and yours.”

“You’re leaving this moment?” Elizabeth asked, feeling bereft.

“Almost. It will take me a few minutes to finish packing and then I will go join my travel companions. I’ve already made arrangements. A young man who worked on the farm and his wife have been holding off on leaving to wait for me. I’ve offered them a small sum to take me with them in their wagon. They’re headed toward my sister’s home.”

“I’m sorry to see you leave,” Elizabeth said, though she could understand it. It was sad how Lady Catherine’s interference had taken the woman who should have been Anne’s closest friend and made her almost an enemy. “Will you say goodbye to Miss de Bourgh?”

“I will. Good luck here, Miss Bennet. She’s fortunate to have you.”

“Thank you. Safe travels.”

Mrs. Jenkinson nodded. Elizabeth watched her return to putting away her sewing and then hurried from the room. She took a deep breath as she headed toward the front parlor, hoping she was up to the task she’d given herself. If Anne, who had lived there her whole life, couldn’t manage Rosings, what hope had Elizabeth of doing so?

The first two women to arrive were by no means the last. All afternoon, all manner of people showed up. It was obvious that word had gotten out quickly. Elizabeth and Mrs. Allen met with each candidate. Elizabeth had no idea how to conduct such interviews, but she ended up doing so. Mrs. Allen chose to sit to the side, not asking questions. She was, however, surprisingly adamant on whom to hire. Fortunately, Elizabeth agreed with her choices. By evening, they had enough staff to keep things going, although not nearly with the level of service to which Anne was accustomed.

Chapter Nine

Darcy looked down at himself as he crossed the yard in the late afternoon light and elected to take the servants’ corridors to his room. Arriving there, he was pleased to see his valet Stevens and the majority of his possessions had finally caught up with him. Especially given the state his shirt, trousers and boots were in.

“Sir,” Stevens greeted, bowing.

“How is the little one?” Darcy asked.

“Thriving, sir.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Stevens wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say anything as he assisted Darcy from his coat. “Miss Bennet arranged for you to have hot water for your bath.”

“That was considerate of her,” Darcy said, grateful and a bit surprised she’d thought of him. After a day which combined physical labor with decisions on what could be neglected and what had to be done, he was looking forward to soaking in a tub. He was also hungry in spite of his midday meal with the laborers.

“Indeed,” Stevens agreed. He left Darcy to bathe, holding his boots and clothing out at arm’s length as he carried them away.

Later, clean and decently clothed, Darcy came down to the parlor to find three women sewing, though not the precise three he’d expected. Mrs. Jenkinson appeared to have been replaced. The new addition to the seemingly endless task was a mature, rounded woman Darcy recognized as a much older than recalled version of Anne’s cousin. He’d met Mrs. Allen only a few times in his life, and not seen her in many years, but she was recognizable enough.

“Anne, Mrs. Allen, Miss Bennet,” Darcy greeted, bowing to them. He wondered where Mrs. Jenkinson was.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Allen said, jumping up. She set her sewing aside and crossed to curtsy before him. “Why, you’ve matured since last we met.”

Darcy nodded. His eyes strayed to Elizabeth, her smile visible even though her face was cast toward her work. “You look well,” he said.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Allen said. “I do believe that with your arrival, we may partake of dinner at last.”

“Will Mrs. Jenkinson be joining us?” he asked.

Anne sighed.

“She left,” Elizabeth said.

“But we won’t allow that to spoil our dinner,” Mrs. Allen said with a smile.

“Of course not,” Elizabeth said. “We knew she planned to go.”

Darcy offered Mrs. Allen his arm. “I hope the meal is acceptable to you, Mrs. Allen. You are aware, I’m sure, of our circumstances.” Mrs. Allen settled her fingers lightly on his forearm and he steered them toward dinner, wishing it was Elizabeth he was escorting, even for so short a walk.

“Oh, dinner promises to be lovely,” Mrs. Allen said. “So many of the families sent over food this afternoon, I don’t know what we shall do with it all.”

“Splendid,” Darcy said.

When they reached the dining room, he could see there were no footmen. With a bow, he left Mrs. Allen’s side and moved to pull out Anne’s chair for her. Anne looked somehow too weak to move the heavy piece of furniture at the head of the table herself. She was also too pale. He hoped enough care was being taken of his frail cousin.

Anne seated, Darcy eyed the place settings in momentary confusion. All of them were clustered about the head of the table, though normally he would have been seated at the foot. Were the few remaining servants truly that untrained?

“I asked them to set it this way,” Anne said in a low voice.

Darcy looked down to see her watching him.

“There are so few of us and we’re all good friends,” Anne said. “I don’t like the idea of everyone spaced out about this too long table, unable to speak without raising our voices. My mother could speak loud enough to be heard anywhere in the room, but I cannot. Please, sit beside me, Darcy.” She gestured to her right. “Elizabeth, I would like you to sit here,” Anne added, pointing to the seat across from his. A footman moved forward to help.

As he seated himself, Darcy hardly noticed that Mrs. Allen sat to his right, since he was far more interested in Elizabeth opposite him. Her skin had a beatific glow he could only accredit to an active day and fine constitution. As their first course was served, he searched his mind for some topic on which to engage her.

“Did your day go well, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

“Well enough. Mr. Whitaker’s loan of farm hands was quite welcome.”

“He sent food as well,” Elizabeth said. She then rattled off the names of five other families who’d sent food. “According to what I’ve been able to learn, all of them have eligible men in them.”

Darcy glanced at Anne, who pushed her food about on her plate. Though he and Elizabeth sat on either side of her, Anne didn’t seem to be attending to the conversation. His worry for her deepened. She was obviously in no state to begin receiving the barrage of suitors that would wish to come. He was glad she was refusing visitors, but that shouldn’t last indefinitely.

At his pause, Elizabeth turned politely to engage Mrs. Allen, leaving Darcy to attempt to engage his cousin. Overall, it proved to be a pleasant dinner, though Darcy preferred the private conversation he and Elizabeth had engaged in earlier that day. It hadn’t been private enough, as they’d been interrupted, but he knew it was the most he could hope for.

The following morning, after having observed Anne all evening, Darcy was unsurprised she was ill. He was also unsurprised that Stevens had found some less fine garments for him to wear out to the fields. Pressing his worry for Anne away, aware that Elizabeth would care for her, Darcy dressed in the slightly coarse fabric. The style was outdated, and he could only assume they were some of his late uncle’s clothes, likely reserved for similar activities. As Darcy recalled from boyhood, his uncle enjoyed the out-of-doors and often assisted on the farm, much to his wife’s chagrin.

Over the next few days, life settled into a manageable routine. Darcy spent most of his waking hours ensuring the farmstead didn’t falter. He wrote to his man in London, asking for an experienced housekeeper to be sent, but was too occupied to do any more to assist in that matter. That the household was running at all with the still limited, inexperienced and new staff was a minor miracle, which Darcy mostly accredited to Elizabeth. After neighboring families realized that bringing food to Miss de Bourgh would not get their unmarried sons a chance to court her, that source dried up, but between them, Elizabeth and Mrs. Allen managed.

Miss Kitty Bennet arrived, filling their meals with greater chatter. Darcy had all but forgotten Anne sending for the girl and at first wished she hadn’t, for his cousin remained ill. He worried that Kitty Bennet, with her silliness and loquaciousness, would add too much additional burden on the other women. Instead, she took to reading to Anne, which seemed to actually comfort his indisposed cousin.

When the housekeeper he’d sent for arrived from London, Darcy hoped she would alleviate the remaining problems in the household, but she was sent back after a few days as it was discovered she was too fond of wine. Even without her, things continued to slowly improve. Darcy could tell Elizabeth was gaining experience in the role Anne had thrust her into. Every night, he gave a brief description of his day’s activities and listened to the women tell him about theirs.

Generally, Mrs. Allen spoke only of managing the kitchen. Anne ceased attending their meals, staying in bed. She developed a cough and a fever, which worried him, but he knew she was being cared for and that she often had these bouts of illness. Surely she would recover this time, as always before.

Miss Kitty, to Darcy’s surprise, took to speaking of the books she was reading to his cousin. Reading seemed to be broadening her mind, also to his surprise. He wouldn’t have guessed she had a mind to be broadened. Then, she was related to Elizabeth, who was undeniably intelligent.

Elizabeth was also unfailingly cheerful, in spite of all the setbacks at getting Rosings running properly. She was lively, but sublimely decorous. She was teaching herself to manage a household the size of Rosings with little guidance, yet at an admirable pace. She was also beguiling as she sat across from him each evening, her dark hair shimmering in the light of the candles and her bow shaped lips unfailingly turned up at the corners. In short, she was perfection.

Which was why Darcy was glad she took to collecting the chicken eggs every morning. He made sure he was always working nearby so he could see her. She usually stopped to chat briefly. When they received the news that the Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval, had been assassinated, they had a lot to talk about. They speculated about possible political reasons for the assassination. Though it turned out to simply be a man who had a private grievance against the government, Darcy was happy to talk about such an important event with someone who was aware of the political situation.

Not that he was entirely without male company. Mr. Whitaker came over every few days and assisted, seemingly willing to do any needed task. He helped supervise workers, oversaw the planting of some of the fields, and even groomed horses alongside Darcy’s coachman, Alderson. Darcy became quite impressed with the man, the only one of the neighbors who had done so much for them, especially after most realized Anne was not yet ready to be courted.

As when the servants first left, Darcy continued to do a lot of the physical work. He maintained his position that this was to free up more skilled workers for their tasks, but it was also so that he could fall in bed exhausted each night. Exhaustion represented his only chance to find sleep. Elizabeth’s friendliness was causing him to want her all the more. Thoughts of her, especially the particularly beguiling notion of her beside his bed in her nightgown but with him in it waiting for her instead of standing in the doorway, were driving him mad.

He knew he shouldn’t let her friendliness fool him. Elizabeth was routinely cordial to everyone, sometimes enough so to make him jealous of other men, like Mr. Whitaker. Her behavior was only natural. Logically they should try to get along. They all had to work together to solve Rosings’ problems. Elizabeth had made it very clear she didn’t like him. Her friendly greetings were no more than a combination of a cheerful disposition and a common sense reaction to their situation. Perhaps there was a little guilt thrown in for having misjudged him, but that didn’t mean she saw him in the same light in which he saw her.

The trouble was, he hadn’t stopped loving her and logic had little place in his mind in the deep of the night. Once, he found himself getting out of bed with the half-asleep thought that he should go to her. He lay back down, glad he didn’t sleepwalk. He knew he must stop thinking of Elizabeth in that way, but the gap between knowing and doing seemed too wide for his heart to breach.

He thought that after Elizabeth’s angry refusal of his proposal he would do what she wanted him to do: Convince himself that his offer was a mistake and be grateful she’d refused him. Instead, he found himself more deeply entranced with every passing day. More worrying, his fascination wasn’t just with her beguiling physical attributes, but with her wit. Why, with little training or background, she was learning how to manage Rosings, and under trying circumstances. What a mistress of Pemberley she would make!

He was also managing his side of things well. In fact, Rosings’ properties were running smoothly enough that he began to have a hard time coming up with excuses for being in the right place to meet Elizabeth in the mornings. Sometimes of late, all he achieved was a friendly wave. On those mornings, he told himself that he ate dinner with her every evening and that should be enough, but it wasn’t.

Realizing he was extending his own suffering, Darcy resolved that things must change. Rosings would be in a state to allow him to leave soon, especially if Richard could be persuaded to return. In truth, Darcy had his own holdings to see to. He couldn’t remain in Kent with Elizabeth forever. He resolved that the next time she stopped and spoke with him would be the last day he’d arrange himself to meet her. It had to be so, or he’d lose what was left of his tortured heart.

The following morning, making little pretense at work, he stood outside the stable, knowing it was the path she would take. Looking toward the manor, he peered through the fruit trees. He saw the kitchen door open and Elizabeth step out. The morning sun gave her dark hair a hint of red. He knew she was graceful in a ballroom, but watching her walk over uneven ground with a soft breeze blowing each errant curl was intoxicating. Sometimes, the wind blew her clothing against her slender form, revealing the outline of her body. It was much more provocative than seeing her in her nightgown, though he treasured that image for the intimacy of it.

She reached him more quickly than he would have hoped, as he wanted to savor their last meeting. “Miss Bennet,” he said, bowing.

“Mr. Darcy,” she replied as she dipped a curtsy, something she’d now mastered doing while burdened with a basket.

“I noticed we’ve been serving fewer eggs of late. Are the hens not laying well?” Darcy had no desire to speak to Elizabeth of chickens, but his brain was strangely blank as the anguished thought of leaving Rosings filled him.

“I’ve let a few of the hens keep their eggs. The new cook used three for soup for Miss de Bourgh and eventually there will need to be replacement hens.”

“I’m glad she is eating,” Darcy said.

“She’s still feverish, but I think she’s getting better. Does she get sick like this often?”