My mind reeled, and it took a great deal of concentration to continue my errand.
Mrs. Reynolds led me thoughtfully along the hall and down the flight of stairs to her office. As we went, she said, “I did not know you were acquainted with Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet.”
“We met when he was lately in Hertfordshire. I hardly expected to see him, and I was as surprised as he was when we met quite accidentally at the door.”
I opted then to quit that subject by force. “Forgive me for intruding upon your time, ma’am, but I am once again in need of guidance. Mrs. Jennings’s cook, you see, has caught me off guard and claims she will take leave for at least a week.”
We had reached Mrs. Reynolds’s office, and almost as though we knew each other well, she motioned me to a chair.
“Indeed? And at this time of year? How odd.”
“I believe she is attempting to overpower me. We began crossways, and she is now determined to make me beg for her services.”
“You believe this to be a mere posturing?”
“I do. She wishes to teach me a lesson, and I wish to call her hand or even raise the stakes. As cooks go, her absence would hardly be a loss.”
“I so dislike that sort of ploy.”
“I would relish the challenge if only I could cook. But that is the issue. Mrs. Jennings keeps a kitchen maid who is but a child and is only given the meanest work, such as sanding the pots. I dread the prospect of bringing in someone new, someone I have never met, someone who might even make my great-aunt ill. There are only Mrs. Jennings, myself, and three servants, and I was wondering whether I could keep us fed on a pot of soup or a hearty stew until the woman returns.”
“Hat in hand, I would hope.”
“Unlikely, but pleasant to imagine. Could I learn by the expedient of necessity, ma’am? I would have looked up a book on cookery rather than bother you, but I was hoping for some sound advice on what a novice can or cannot undertake. Or do you recommend I surrender to Mrs. Smith and offer her a premium to stay? That is the advice I have come seeking today.”
Mrs. Reynolds eyed me thoughtfully for the barest interval before she stood and went to a cupboard behind her. She brought out a book and thumbed through it while asking, “How did the pork jelly turn out, Miss Bennet?”
I smiled. “I made a creditable showing. I thank you.”
“Very well. I believe you will also be able to make a creditable showing with these few recipes I shall mark with string. You may leave the book for me at Stevenson’s when you are finished with it. Mind you, keep the stove from burning too hot. That is the most common cause of a ruined meal. Be patient, begin early, and you might do well enough for a week.”
“Bless you, Mrs. Reynolds,” I said, taking the book and clasping it to my chest like an eager child. I was truly delighted not to have to give in to Mrs. Smith’s tyranny.
As I left Mrs. Reynolds’s office, I longingly eyed the passages of the lower floor, wishing I could slink out the back entrance rather than again cross paths with Mr. Darcy.
But what a ninny I was! Had I not been determined to arrive at the front door like agentleman’s daughter? And by no means would Mr. Darcy be inclined to meet me again. He would by now have made a strategic retreat into the far upper reaches of the house and come down only after he was certain I was gone.
Only, there he was!
He stood in the main hall with his hands clasped behind his back, looking for all the world as though he had not moved from the spot where he had watched me wander away with his housekeeper almost half an hour earlier. Was he stupid—as some highly intelligent persons are—I wondered, or was he simply stubborn, intending only to discompose me further?
He stood directly in my path as I approached, forcing me to come to a halt and to curtsey. “Good day to you, Mr. Darcy,” I said, before attempting to move past him.
He waved away the footman and turned to escort me to the door himself. “I have called for a carriage,” he said.
“A carriage? I thank you, but there is no need for that, sir.”
“It is raining.”
“And so it was when I walked here,” I said, fastening my coat and preparing to step out into a wet afternoon.
But there was no gainsaying the master of Pemberley. The coach stood at the foot of the stairs with a liveried groom holding the door. Mr. Darcy took the umbrella from a waiting footman, placed it over my head, took my arm, and led me down the stairs. Once there, he took my hand with a surprising degree of firmness and saw me sat down before he released it. He then reached for the lap rug on the rear facing seat and handed it to me.
He then shocked me by calling up to the coachman, “The Frye house on the north end of Lambton, Keller.”
I am sure I sat with my mouth agape in a most unladylike expression of idiocy as I looked at him.
The gentleman bowed and said, “Good day, Miss Bennet.”
