I could almost pity Mrs. Burke. She was clearly shocked to realize that she, who had been Mrs. Jennings’s principal support for years upon years, had been so easily forgot. My great aunt smiled pleasantly at the woman and went back to her knitting.
“You have arrived betimes, Mrs. Burke, which is perhaps fortunate. This gentleman is my aunt Gardiner’s husband, who is here to settle Mrs. Jennings’s affairs. Excuse me, Uncle, but I shall see whether Miss Darcy is finished with her practice.”
I left them alone for what would be, in effect, an interview. I wondered whether Mrs. Burke, finding herself suddenly obliged to beg for a job, now regretted storming into Pemberley to berate me.
Later, on our way into the village, Uncle Gardiner related that he had stated his intention of converting the house to lodging for boarders, and he put the woman on notice that he would arrive on the premises on the following day to discuss the matter further.
“That was fair of you, sir,” I said. “Now that she understands the precariousness of her position, she will have the place in good order.”
“I should hope so.”
“She is not bad,” I said.
“She had better become good very quickly, however, because I shall close the house meanwhile and bring someone from London if I must.” Later, before I dressed for dinner, I wandered to the library and met Mr. Darcy quite by accident. He had, to my absolute relief, ceased to be always presenting himself to my notice, and it had been days since we had shared more than a civil greeting.
“I understand your sworn enemy paid you a call this morning,” he remarked with amused interest.
“Mrs. Burke very soon regretted her effrontery since Mrs. Jennings did not recognize her, and Uncle Gardiner proceeded to point out to whom she will now answer.”
“Ah. Is your pride avenged?”
“Wickedly so, I am afraid. And now I even pity her because my uncle is reputed to be meticulous in his businesses.”
“I do not doubt that. Might I help you find a book?”
“Oh, well…” The awful truth struck me like a blow! “Perhaps I should not become immersed in something new. Now that my uncle has met Mrs. Burke and can finalize his plans, we shall certainly make arrangements to go.”
If silence were a maw, we would have been devoured by the beast, for it loomed enormously around us. I mumbled something incoherent and escaped to dress for dinner.
***
The silence that had bloomed mysteriously between us continued during the meal. I found my throat was almost too constricted to eat, and Mr. Darcy sat as mute as a sphinx when my uncle announced the date of our departure—two days hence. He was the only person pleased by this news, so much so that he did not notice Miss Darcy’s retreat behind her mask-like expression or Mrs. Annesley’s desperate efforts to keep some conversation in play.
The following day, my uncle left me and a small purse of coins at Stevenson’s to make purchases, and he went to the Frye house. He took Penny’s parcel with him only after offering me a brief reminder that charity was one thing, but to become too attached would help no one. The unfortunate truth—that the depth of poverty surrounding the village was too great for an impoverished gentlewoman to solve with the gift of one shawl—depressed me into a state of calm resignation that lingered. Later that afternoon, I packed my trunks with the help of Miss Darcy’s maid and in a manner far more deliberate than I would have done in other circumstances.
I kept up a brave front. No good would come of making a spectacle of my unhappiness. I met with Mrs. Reynolds once again, this time to beg she would write to me or Aunt Gardiner at the addresses I supplied if at any time Mrs. Jennings became disruptive or required attendance beyond what Ruth could provide. I reaffirmed our intention to pay for any medical attention or even the smallest trifle the widow might need.
Mrs. Reynolds accepted this speech in patient silence, and I was glad she did not cluck at me for suggesting the management of one additional person in so great a house was of any concern to her. We spoke of Ruth’s progress, and she asked that we provide her with a dress of gray wool similar to that worn by Bell, Miss Darcy’s personal maid. This would set her apart from her confederates and dampen any urges they might have to co-opt her into helping with their chores.
“That is an excellent idea. Where might I find something for her?”
“Leave it to me, miss. I shall put the charge on Mrs. Jennings’s ledger to be paid in full by the second quarter day from now if that will suit.”
“Perfectly. I thank you for everything, ma’am.” I spoke humbly and from a position of deep obligation.What they had not done for us!I lowered my eyes to the desk between us.
“You must be aware,” she said in a kindly voice, “that your visit with Mrs. Jennings has been of great benefit to Miss Darcy. She has enjoyed her occupation and has always had an affinity for the elderly.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears at such a thoughtful reassurance that our imposition had not been felt. With a heroic briskness, I sniffed them back and smiled my gratitude.
That evening, I noticed a book on the small table next to a chair in the salon where we gathered after dinner. Uncle Gardiner had been persuaded to a game of backgammon with Mrs. Annesley, and Mr. Darcy was dealing cards to his sister after I declined to play.
The book was one my father owned, a translation from Greek. I opened it to a page at random and read,“Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what is left and live it properly.”I took this sentiment with me to bed, and on the following morning—the day of our departure—I clung to it like a mast in the storm of my feelings.
I said goodbye to the maids with small gifts of woolen gloves I had bought at Stevenson’s. I gave Miss Darcy’s lady’s maid a set of linen and lace handkerchiefs and bestowed upon Sam a flannel muffler. I sought out Maggie in the kitchen and gave her a pair of gloves as well, asking whether she might tell me how she made the apple compote we so often enjoyed for breakfast.
I did not give gifts to Mrs. Reynolds, Mrs. Annesley, or Mr. Parker, for this would have been below their dignity. Nor did I have anything to offer Georgiana save a smacking kiss on the cheek and a light scold for having attached me to such a degree that I was certain to cry upon our imminent farewell at the door. She swore she would write to me, demanded I write in return, and staked a lifelong claim upon my friendship that I was obliged, with a terrific pang in my heart, to reciprocate.
Time went both slowly and swiftly, and suddenly, I was in the foyer shaking Mr. Darcy’s hand and being ushered out the door by my uncle toward the waiting coach. I had been laudably serene to this point, and I might have hung on to my dignity if, at that moment, the kennel master had not walked by and my little pup not run straight into my arms.
