“You are rather bloodthirsty today, Mary,” Jane reprimanded her.
“I am, indeed; I only wish I could have brought him to Whitechapel myself!” Mary said, furious tears in her eyes.
“I did it on your behalf, Miss Mary,” Mr. Darcy said, in an unexpectedly gentle voice.
“I thank you for that, Mr. Darcy. But I know not how to act now; my youngest sister is likely dead, but I cannot publicly mourn her.”
“We all feel that, Mary,” Jane said. “It has been very hard, mourning Mama, wondering where Lydia is, and now fearing the worst. But we must continue on, allowing our neighbours to comfort us for the loss that is known to the world, and privately comforting one another for the loss that is known only to ourselves.”
“I had almost forgotten – I have something for you from the Gardiners.” Mr. Darcy left the room, went to his carriage, and soon returned, carrying the large package he had brought from Gracechurch Street. He placed it on the table before the large sofa and stepped back.
“Have you your scissors, Jane?” Kitty asked.
“I have a folding knife,” Mr. Darcy said, and he proceeded to cut the strings that held the package together.
The Bennet girls stepped forward to open the package and exclaimed over the fabric and the ribbons. “Look, lace!” Kitty said.
“So very kind of the Gardiners,” Jane said, caressing a length of grey ribbon. “I will write to them at once.”
“It was very good of you to bring this to us,” Elizabeth murmured to Mr. Darcy, stepping close to him.
Her proximity was intoxicating; it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. He felt Mr. Bennet’s eyes boring into him, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.
***
Kitty excused herself from the company as soon as it was polite to do so and ran up to her room. She could hardly believe that everyone was discussing Lydia’s death so very calmly! Kitty was certain that Lydia wasnotdead; she and Lydia were close, very close, and Kitty would have felt it if Lydia had died.
Wouldn’t she?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Living as a servant opened Lydia’s eyes in many ways. The room she shared with Edith was tiny; being on the top floor of the house, it was also quite hot. There was a very small window, which let in very little air; the air it did let in was typical of London in the summer – hot and smoky.
Her bed was iron, with one straw-filled mattress and a thin pillow. Edith swore that her own mattress was infested with bed bugs, and indeed, Edith seemed to do a good deal of scratching, but so far Lydia had been spared that particular problem.
The uniform she had been given to wear was a lightweight cotton; the colour, a medium grey, could not flatter anyone’s complexion. This cotton was fine in the summer; would they be given warmer clothing in the winter? Lydia suspected not.
She ate her meals downstairs with the rest of the staff. The food was good, which Lydia appreciated. She had always had a hearty appetite, and the immense amount of work she did every day sharpened it. Intent on not being found wanting, she continued her practice of keeping her head down and her mouth shut. She would never forget the nights she had spent huddled in a London doorway; she knew she had been incredibly fortunate to have had a kind young lady take an interest in her, and she would do nothing to jeopardize her position.
Downstairs, Mr. Durston reigned supreme. When he entered or left a room, the other servants rose immediately. At dinner each night, he handed out reprimands to anyone he felt deserved one.
“Jack, I noticed that you did not step aside on the staircase when you encountered Mrs. Hodges. Remember that you are always to step aside to let persons of higher rank pass, and that includes servants who are higher than you.”
“Doris, Mrs. Hodges tells me that you found Miss Emily’s glove and returned it to her. In the future, you should give any items that you find to Letty, Nancy or Beatrice, not directly to the lady.”
“Lydia, I have been told that you have been seen smiling at Miss Alice; do not do so, it smacks of familiarity! Keep your head down, girl.”
“Alfred, I have seen you looking at Lydia. I will tolerate no more of that nonsense, I tell you, or I shall have you dismissed without a character.”
The correct response, Lydia soon learnt, was to say, “Yes, Mr. Durston,” and nothing more.
Mr. Durston did not, of course, reprimand Mrs. Hodges, Letty, Nancy or Beatrice; the first three of those kept their eyes down during the nightly admonishments, but Beatrice, nasty thing, would smirk at whoever Mr. Durston selected as his target that night.
Cook was also excluded from scoldings, perhaps because Mr. Durston feared her revenge. She was as temperamental as any great French chef, and kept everyone at a distance. Lydia, remembering the meal she had been given immediately upon her arrival, made it a point to thank Cook every day for her delicious food; she generally received nothing more than a quick nod of Cook’s head in response. Lydia required no further acknowledgement; the food was one of the few things she liked about her new situation and she thought it only right to indicate some appreciation.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The next day, Georgiana was very ready to leave Netherfield. Yesterday, after her brother had left, she had been coaxed by Miss Bingley into playing duets, and then had to listen to the lady speak deprecatingly about the Bennets in general and Miss Elizabeth in particular.
