The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, was the sole person to greet Mary. She apologized for Mr. Darcy and his sister being absent from Pemberley at present. She then led Mary down the hall, but stopped at an unexpected door. Before she could open it, however, Mary cleared her throat, stopping her.
“Pardon me, Mrs. Reynolds, but shan’t I be staying in the bedchamber where I usually stay when we all come at Christmas?” Mary said. “I normally get the west-facing room with the green wall paper, farther down the hall.” She gestured lamely. “This room is always taken by my sister Jane and Mr. Bingley.”
Mrs. Reynolds firmly shook her head. “Oh no, miss—you are to have the Rose Room on this visit. Mrs. Darcy was quite insistent upon that!” She flung open the door, and nodded for Mary to enter. “I shall send your trunks up directly.” With a final smile and nod, she bustled down the hall, leaving Mary to explore her new accommodations.
It was a large and well-appointed bedchamber with three separate sitting areas, all furnished with one or two upholstered chairs or a settee—one in the corner to the right of the entry, one at the fireplace, and yet another near the windows. More than anyone could ever really need, Mary thought. Rather a waste of furniture, to own it. However, she had to admit it was all beautiful. There was also an elegant desk that was set by the windows. She walked over and stroked the beautiful burl oak and noted there was an ink stand, freshly sharpened pens and plenty of paper already set out—such generosity!
I shall make use of this desk to write Amelia very often. It could not hurt to have her share my letters with her brother and therefore keep me in his mind.
There was a knock at the door, and upon her calling “enter,” two footmen carried in her trunks, followed by a maid who curtseyed, introduced herself as Julia, and said that she would act as lady’s maid. She informed Mary that she would unpack if the lady would like to stretch her legs around the estate for a while.
“I should like to see my sister if possible,” Mary said, keeping her duty in mind.
“Mrs. Darcy is asleep at present, miss,” came the reply. “She should be awake for tea and a bite to eat around four; that has been her routine of late.”
“I understand Mr. Darcy is not at home?” Mary was a bit miffed not to be greeted by him when she arrived.
“He had urgent tenant issues to deal with on the far end of the estate. Took young master Thomas with him too. I don’t expect we shall see him until dinner.”
Mary nodded, donned her pelisse, and went down the stairs. She was tempted to visit the library, but she knew that, if she did, she would soon curl up with a book, and it did seem like a better idea to stretch her legs after all the hours of sitting in the carriage.
***
After an hour or so, Mary returned to the house, thoroughly chilled. She hurried upstairs to sit by the fire in her room. One thing about her brother-in-law, he was not one to skimp on the wood for heating!
As she moved towards her room, she heard a plaintive wailing from down the hall. The new baby? Mary walked to the nursery and cautiously opened the door to see a nursemaid walking back and forth, holding a tiny bundle from which the screams emanated. When the nursemaid turned around, she gave a little start to see Mary, then dropped a small curtsey.
“G’day, miss. Are you the sister, then?” she asked.
“Yes, I am Mary Bennet. And you are…?”
“Beatrice, ma’am. Pleased to meet you. Sorry for the noise, but this’un fusses night and day. The wet nurse just fed her, so it’s not that she’s hungry.”
“May I see my niece?” Mary moved closer, and Beatrice turned the bundle towards her. A squalling, red face peeked out of the blankets. Never one to feel much interest in babies before, Mary surprised herself by reaching out and taking the babe from Beatrice’s arms. She jostled her niece and made soft shushing sounds as she walked around the nursery. To her amazement, little Lavinia stopped screaming and stared up at the strange face with intensity.
“Hello, Miss Lavinia Jane Darcy,” Mary said. “Very pleased to meet you. I am your aunt Mary.”
“Gracious me, I can hardly believe it,” exclaimed Beatrice. “I thought she’d never stop screaming. You have a touch, you do for sure, miss.”
“I doubt it,” Mary said practically. “More likely she just cried herself out.” She peered closer and reached out one finger, smiling as baby latched onto it firmly. Noting a comfortable chair by the window, Mary walked over and sat, still rocking her niece. She smiled as she watched Lavinia’s eyes slowly droop and close.
I barely remember Kitty and Lydia as babies, since they were sent away until weaned. And why were we all sent to a wet nurse? Did Mama not enjoy holding us? Goodness, I quite like the feel of this.
Mary was quite content to hold her sleeping niece until Julia arrived to suggest that Mary change for dinner.
“Oh. I quite lost track of time and forgot about visiting my sister—is she available for a short visit now?”
But Julia shook her head, saying Mrs. Darcy was indisposed. Mary reluctantly gave the baby back to Beatrice and went to her room.
Chapter 13
Mr. Collins was in a foul mood. Months of living with his in-laws had brought him to the sad conclusion that the optimism with which he had entered into his current arrangement as only a short break before moving to his next parish was not to be realized. He took a long walk across the fields one afternoon to think about how he might improve his situation.
Charlotte enjoys time with her parents and siblings, and I know it is a comfort to be near them while she awaits the birth of our child, although I have seen how she and her mother often huddle together for whispered conversations that always stop when I enter the room. No doubt, the two are complaining about my inability to secure a new location. I am doing my best, after all! Does she think I am happy with the way things are? I have no space of my own! I cannot share Sir William’s library. Our own bedchamber is quite small, and every other room in the house seems to be filled with people at all times!
Adding to his unhappy disposition, was a recent letter from Mr. Darcy informing Mr. Collins that, sadly, there were no livings available in Derbyshire and, further, that Mr. Darcy knew of no other potential positions.
“I wish you all the best, and be assured I shall certainly put your name forward should any suitable position come to my attention,” Darcy had written. All the proper words, but Mr. Collins could perceive no real offer of help in them.
