Page 8 of A Matter of Murder

Mrs. Bennet appeared surprised to be singled out in such a way, but it passed quickly. “Oh, a tremendous amount of work,” she agreed eagerly. “Five daughters! One would be trouble enough, but you haven’t the faintest clue the lengths I’ve gone to—”

“Exactly,” Caroline said, neatly cutting her off. “But it is our duty, as ladies, to keep our husbands’ homes and run households and raise children and see them properly settled in life. And there is nothing more sacred than a woman’s role in the home.”

Lizzie’s mouth was a hard line, and Darcy didn’t have to guess at what she was thinking—but surely whatever would come out of Lizzie’s mouth would only fan the flames of this conversation, which is why he made the impulsive decision to cut in.

“You won’t find me arguing that women don’t work, even at running households, but I hardly think it fair to say that it’s all women ought to do. Why not leave room for other occupations?”

“Surely you can’t be advocating for women to find work outside the home, Mr. Darcy?” Caroline asked aghast. “It is one thing to take an interest, to dabble, but only until marriage.”

Lizzie laughed, a sharp sound. “Caroline, you ask that question as though it’s not something ladies do every day.”

“Women,” Caroline corrected. “Notladies.”

Darcy saw Lizzie’s spine go rigid and Charlotte’s expression become fixed. Of course Caroline would not consider the many young ladies who needed to work in order to keep themselves out of poverty, like Charlotte. She was an educated and well-mannered lady, but whatever her parents had left her when they died had not stretched into adulthood.

“I think men deserve a little competition,” Bingley declared. His cheeks were pink, and Darcy knew what it must have cost his friend, who was normally very conflict-averse, to speak up against his sister. “After all, if not for Lizzie and Charlotte, our business would have been lost.”

“Why does it always come back to that?” Caroline snapped. “I don’t see why young ladies should be doing the jobs of men. You don’t see gentlemen engaged in women’s work.”

“Perhaps they should,” Lizzie said with a scoff. “I’d like to see a man make a loaf of bread or hem a dress before they tell me I can’t negotiate a contract.”

“You’re full of the most absurd ideas,” Caroline said, and then turned abruptly to the maid kneeling before the fireplace. “Speaking of work, where is the fire?”

“I’m sorry, miss!” the maid said in a small voice.

Darcy looked to see the girl desperately pumping the small bellows, trying to coax the stack of dry wood and kindling to catch from the coals brought up from the kitchen. But every time she managed to get the air flowing and the kindling to catch, the flames would fall down again, and smoke trailed past her,hanging in the drawing room. Darcy could see the girl’s hands were shaking with every new attempt, and the attention from the party was not helping.

“Here,” he said, standing to go by her side. “Allow me to assist.”

“You can’t be serious, Darcy!” Caroline scoffed.

And perhaps it was the drinks he’d downed on an empty stomach, but Darcy shot her a glare and said, “Why not? Can a man not do a woman’s task?”

A snort of laughter from Lizzie galvanized him, even as Jane looked on with dismay and Bingley was rubbing his temples. “Darcy, I can ring for someone, you don’t have to—” Jane began, but he waved off her protest.

“I know I don’t have to, but I’d like to. I agree with Lizzie—I think men ought to know how to do as much as women. What if I were stranded somewhere with no help, and in danger of freezing to death unless I could light a fire?”

He looked down at the maid’s handiwork and tried not to think about the fact that she had likely lit a hundred fires for every small fire he’d started when he wasn’t inclined to ring for a servant. But Caroline had annoyed him so much, and the poor maid was practically quivering from fear, so he didn’t regret stepping up.

“I can get it going with the bellows, sir,” the maid said, so softly he almost couldn’t hear, “but it won’t keep.”

“Well, that should be easy enough to solve. Is the damper open all the way?”

“I... I think so? I’m sorry, sir, but you see, I’ve never lit this fireplace before.”

“Honestly, the ineptitude,” Caroline huffed behind him.

“That’s all right. It’s an antique, this fireplace,” Darcy said. “I’ve got one just like it at my estate, and they can be temperamental.”

“Honestly, Darcy, I’ll ring for Grigson,” Jane said.

“No need.” Darcy looked for the lever to control the damper. It was tucked unobtrusively below some of the more extravagant detailing of the mantel. He gave it an experimental nudge, but it didn’t give. “You know, I don’t think the damper is open.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the maid said, stepping back. “I’m new here, and I thought—”

“Don’t you worry,” Darcy said cheerfully, gripping the level and giving it a pull. “It’s just a matter of opening it up and—”

But the lever really didn’t want to move, even when he put his back into it.