Mrs. Reynolds laughed. “Both. Whatever was an under-maid doing in the kitchen, I do not know! But she managed to knock Cook’s veal coffyn to the floor—it was to be a special treat for Miss Darcy, the veal specially brought up from Nottingham. The maid is lying weeping on the flag stones, and Cook is set to beat her with her great ladle.”
“Well, let us prevent a beating, and salvage what remains of the coffyn—surely Cook’s pastry crust can withstand a little accident?”
Elizabeth followed Mrs. Reynolds to the kitchen, where Cook was standing over a snivelling maid. The coffyn, a tall, straight-sided pastry case, had rolled under a table, still intact but slightly abraded.
“Cook, I came to congratulate you,” said Elizabeth, stepping between Cook and the cowering girl. “Mrs. Ramsgate declared your eel and bone marrow tart the best she has ever tasted. She demands the recipe.”
“M—Mrs. Bennet,” stammered Cook, caught between admonishing the under-maid and accepting the compliments of Mrs. Ramsgate, the most fastidious matron in the neighbourhood. “I shall have it copied immediately.” The woman beamed, the veal coffyn forgotten. Mrs. Reynolds, meanwhile, had pulled the maid to her feet and quickly ushered her out of the kitchen.
“What a magnificent job catering for so many people,” continued Elizabeth, as though nothing unusual had taken place behind her. “The whole kitchen is to be congratulated—Miss Darcy sends her thanks for maintaining Pemberley’s exceptional standards.”
Mrs. Reynolds joined Elizabeth as they returned to the barn. “Well, that went better than I expected,” she said. “Though, Mrs. Ramsgate has yet to arrive.”
“Oh, I must be mistaken,” replied Elizabeth, as both ladies chuckled, “perhaps it was Mrs. Markham who wished for the recipe. Now, let us check that nothing else is amiss—if Cook’s coffyn is the worst that can happen, then it will be a very good night.”
The dancing continued well into the morning, the great fire pits smouldering, reduced to charcoal and ashes. Winthrop had footmen walk the grounds, discovering snoring but contented villagers sprawled under trees and bushes. They would sleep off their inebriation.
“You should retire, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mrs. Reynolds, “The sun is beginning to let itself be seen over the horizon.”
“And so should you, Mrs. Reynolds. I suggested Miss Darcy retire some hours ago—the poor thing was quite exhausted.”
“I do believe,” said the other, “that she danced with every child who could toddle. She is so sweet.”
“Her nature is likely due to you, Mrs. Reynolds,” said Elizabeth softly, “for you were the most important woman in her life after Lady Anne died.”
Mrs. Reynolds blushed. “It was my duty, ma’am. Oh, there were many a widow or Miss who set their sights on old Mr. Darcy—surely, they thought, he would be in want of a wife. But he had loved Lady Anne so much, that he felt unable to sully her memory by remarrying. She had borne him the children: Master Fitzwilliam, and sweet little Georgiana as she was then—still is! Oh, the dear had nurses and governesses aplenty, but it was my privilege to be always here for her.”
In the early light of dawn, Elizabeth saw tears form in Mrs. Reynolds’s eyes. Tonight, Georgiana had fulfilled all thata loving housekeeper could wish for her charge. Once again, Elizabeth felt humbled—but also despondent: that she would be but a fleeting interlude in Georgiana’s life.
* * *
Chapter 18
Ireland, July 1813
From: E. Bennet, Child & Co.
To: F. Darcy, Royal Canal Co.
Darcy,
No doubt Miss Darcy told you in her letter that Pemberley is out of quarantine. What a relief that the estate can resume its normal business. Perhaps the quarantine was unnecessary, as no others were infected with the measles. More likely, the speedy isolation of Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh, and reducing their contacts to a minimum, prevented the disease from spreading. God be praised.
Lady Catherine has recovered and in good health—though she is much changed from the woman I first met a month ago. Perhaps coming close to death, or fearing the death of her beloved daughter, has set her to reflection. She and I have had several long conversations and have confided many of our concerns and worries. Perhaps writing to you of these is improper, but our letters have led to such a familiarity and commonality of thought that it would be wrong not to keep you informed.
Her ladyship is a complex person, almost—dare I say it—as complex as I believe you to be. She confessed that when Miss Anne developed rheumatic fever from the scarlet fever epidemic—which ravaged Kent when her daughter was but seven years old—her life stopped. Her constant fear that Miss Anne’s heart would fail led to her being overprotective,not allowing any exercise, and keeping Miss Anne swaddled indoors.
Her anger at such misfortune became directed toward managing the lives of those around her, interfering in the smallest matters. She said she even recommended shelves in the closets of the Hunsford rectory! So greatly did Mr. Collins, the rector, fear displeasing her that he had them installed that very week! I trust his wife will have them quietly removed, for how else can gowns and suchlike be hung?
I am privileged that Lady Catherine has confided in me. She is not yet recovered enough to write to you herself; she feels that confessing the wrongs she has done to both your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and to yourself would require many pages of manuscript. She would much rather speak to you directly, once you have returned from Ireland. Lady Catherine greatly misses your mother, Lady Anne, after whom her daughter is named. Rather obliquely, she confessed that she had wished for a union between Miss de Bourgh and yourself, solely to provide Anne with a guardian in case her daughter outlived her. ‘There is a great irony, is there not,’ she said, ‘that coming near to death, I discovered Anne has friends enough who will care for her, without binding Darcy to a soulless marriage and, more likely, leaving Pemberley without an heir due to Anne’s frailty.’
Forgive me, Darcy, if I have transgressed by relating the above, for it is a very personal thing indeed, and if I have become too intimate with your family affairs, I will bear your admonishment and stick to my ledgers and accounts. Lady Catherine was aware we correspond, albeit on estate and bank business, yet she wished you not be burdened by the anticipation of discord on your return to Pemberley. She readily acknowledges that you and her daughter do not suit. Her ladyship and Miss de Bourgh are not yet recovered enoughto travel—Miss Darcy has invited them to stay as long as may be. Indeed, they are both delightful company of an evening.
By my reckoning, the canal must be nearly complete to Correlstown, with only the twenty-fifth lock remaining. If you would, please forward me estimates for the expense of masonry and timber for the aqueduct, in order to provide comparison with similar structures being built here in England. We do not doubt your accounts—indeed, the very opposite. Child & Co. has been approached to fund yet another canal in Lancashire, but the estimates for bridges and aqueducts are, I fear, overly optimistic. Your exceedingly efficacious oversight of the Royal Canal’s construction has set a standard by which all other such projects are adjudged.
One other matter, if you will permit me to trespass further upon your attention. There is some anxiety in London regarding the recent fluctuations in the price of canal shares. It is said that several investors, particularly among the younger sons of the peerage, have been persuaded by speculative advice to overextend themselves. I am asked whether the Lagan Navigation near Belfast is liable to the same sudden reversals as have lately been seen elsewhere. If you have any intelligence as to the feelings in Dublin, or if there are rumours of unrest among the labourers or suppliers, I would be grateful to receive it.
I am beholden to you,
