“As you command, my lady.”
She barely refrained from correcting him.
Ground Floor
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam’s descent to the ballroom proved entirely uneventful and free of hidden meaning, save for the smirk from Georgiana as she beheld `her friend Lizzy` walking arm in arm with her brother, and the smirk from Lady Matlock as she watched her hopefully future niece walking arm in arm with her lunkheaded nephew, and the bright smile from Stewart, who saw the possibility of finally being able to fit her mistress with a new dress rather than a hand-me-down; and the smiles and respectful nods of all the footmen and maids, who seemed thicker on the route than usual by at least double.
By the end, it occurred to Elizabeth that this might not have been the best strategy were she trying to escape Pemberley, but a second perusal of the notion suggested it was akin to worrying about a hangnail when you had been shot.
When they arrived at the ballroom, they met Breton, who smiled enough to light up the room, bowed very respectfully to the mistress, and smacked the master on the arm hard enough to raise a bruise.
Not a man opposed to an opportunity for impertinence, he said, “Miss Bennet, Darcy, it is so nice to see you so… er… harmonious?”
Fitzwilliam laughed, a sound Elizabeth still found disconcerting, but one that she could probably accustom herself to. “Remember that your courtship starts in less than four hours, Breton, and I have along memory.”
With a huge laugh, the stablemaster replied with a proper bow to show the appropriate respect for the master of the estate, and it was only marginally injured by an impertinent smirk.
Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, I have affairs to see to in here. Pray, take Mr Breton outside and see if you can beat some sense into him.”
Both gentlemen roared with laughter. Had she made her ultimate position better or worse? Did it even matter? She still liked to think she had a decision to make, but the Longbourn-sized hole Fitzwilliam had dug for himself was smaller than Longbourn’s stables already.
They entered the ballroom, but she pointed to an unobtrusive corner behind a support column where the men could observe without being easily seen, and they followed instructions like two well-trained dogs.
Elizabeth then assumed what she considered hermistress of Pemberleycountenance and went to meet the guests.
Most villagers had worked out that even if she was not the ‘real’ mistress of the estate, she carried the same whip the real mistress would, and they owed her their respect. There was plenty of doffing of caps from the men, which Elizabeth accepted with the best grace she could, though it was not always perfect. The women had quickly learned that a small curtsy followed by a genuine greeting went a long way, while a deep curtsy followed by excessive fawning led to their concerns being addressed last.
Elizabeth was just greeting Mrs Hind, who was heavily pregnant but refused to move to a room in the family wing, when a commotion erupted a dozen feet away.
Two boys of around seventeen stood a few feet apart, hands balled into fists, rage on their faces, yelling at each other loud enough to be heard upstairs. They both looked like blacksmiths’ sons, each close to six feet tall, well-muscled, and strong as oxen. Both appeared ready to do real damage. The two boys, Hatcher and Jensen, had been problematic before, and Elizabeth had endured just about all she intended to.
She glanced toward the corner with Darcy and Breton and saw both men starting to stride her way, but she waved her hand discreetly. Darcy caught her signal and studied her, reaching out to stop Breton. She waved them back to their corner, and when Darcy showed signs of arguing, she frowned with an expression that promised retribution for lack of compliance. If she could not handle two overgrown infants, she had no business being mistress of a great estate.
Darcy, surprised by her decision but unwilling to contradict clear instruction when he was not at all certain he was out of disgrace yet, acquiesced to the scheme—but God help those boys if they injured so much as a hair on his Elizabeth’s head.
Breton just laughed. “Sit back. You will want to see this.”
Quite calmly, as if she had all day, the mistress said a few more words to Mrs Hind and kissed her on the cheek. A few more words were exchanged, and the lady took Elizabeth’s hand and held it on her stomach for a few seconds, which drew a huge smile from the mistress.
Then, sighing in resignation, she walked away from the expectant mother.
As she crossed the floor, Darcy could swear she grew taller right before his eyes.
Breton just chuckled. “You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, my friend.”
Looking like an admittedly short Valkyrie, Elizabeth walked right up to the two boys, whose shouting match was truly getting out of hand, calmly reached up, and grabbed both by their ears. She appeared an inch from drawing blood, for both boys immediately stopped their shouting and reached for their ears before they saw it was the mistress of the house who held them. At that point, they both became preternaturally still.
Elizabeth gripped their ears, apparently squeezing with some force, until both boys looked to her and reached up to doff theircaps respectfully. Finally, after another half-minute or so, she released them and calmly stepped back.
Both boys bowed deeply, though clumsily, and stood hat in hands, awaiting their punishment. She simply raised her finger, pointed to the southwest, and held it there while staring them down.
The boys noted the gesture, looked down in contrition, bowed, then walked back to their sleeping areas, gathered their coats and boots, and departed.
Giving a slight smirk, Elizabeth carried on with her rounds. She approached each villager, all of whom showed her at least as much respect as they would show him, and probably more. This did not distress him in the least. If he wanted their respect in future, he would either have to work for it, or cheat and rely on what Elizabeth garnered.
She approached the builder, and Darcy was surprised when she pulled a billfold out of a hidden pocket in her dress, passed it to him, and shook his hand. That was apparently the transaction. He began to appreciate that people always treated him in his business dealings out of a combination of respect and fear. He always tried to emphasise the former by being scrupulously honest but was willing to fall back on the latter if necessary. He began to understand that the same people would treat Elizabeth well simply because they could not conceive of doing otherwise. It was a sobering but elevating thought.
A half-hour later, Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves at the front door. The rain had ceased days earlier, so there was a good chance they could walk at their leisure wherever they liked without too much mud. Darcy recalled when Elizabeth trekked three miles in the mud to tend Jane and surmised mud would not be an impediment anyway… unless of course she judged the overly fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy unable to keep up with her.
