Page 9

While Mr. Darcy was attending to his errands, his wife was beginning to reconsider her professed attitude of enjoying those entertainments that London had to offer.

Although she was quite in awe of the ball gown that Madame Lavoisier had designed, she did not enjoy standing on a block in her dressing room for hours on end while the patterns were chalked and pinned and tucked around her.

She was allowed to step down and don her robe while the basting was being done, but it seemed every time she had settled on something to do while waiting, the modista would need to see how the alteration fit and she would be up on the block again.

Lizzy was thankful when she was finally allowed to escape, although she soon found that her next duty was no less stultifying.

On the day after her arrival at Derwent House, Elizabeth had gently canvassed the girl whom Mrs. Wilkins had assigned as her personal maid.

It had not taken long to discover that the ambition for Sally to become lady’s maid to the Mistress of Pemberley could more rightly be attributed to her aunt, the housekeeper.

It took very little pressing for he girl to admit that her own ambitions lay further afield; specifically, with the son of the baker who supplied most of the household’s bread.

Once this was established, Mrs. Wilkins was summoned and the facts laid out before her.

Having no children of her own, the housekeeper’s enthusiasm for her niece’s nuptials (after being assured of the young man’s honorable intentions) was very great indeed.

In short order, it had been established that Sally would continue to serve Mrs. Darcy for as long as she was needed and would then return to her former position as parlor maid until she and young Bobby were ready to wed.

While Elizabeth was very glad to see Sally’s situation resolved, she was not looking forward to interviewing candidates, a fact she freely admitted to her husband later that night while they sat together before the fire.

“Why not try one of the other maids already in the house?” he suggested, while furtively (he thought) loosening the ribbon that held her braid.

Lizzy smiled, partly in amusement at his subterfuge (they rarely sat together for longer than ten minutes before her hair fell loose about her shoulders) and partly because she was uncertain how to voice her response without offending his pride in the staff.

Finally, she asked what she hoped was an innocuous question.

“How did Hawkins come to be in your service?”

Darcy stared into the flames for a moment.

“I didn’t have a personal manservant until after university.

The summer before I left Cambridge, Papa decided I should have the experience of hiring my own valet.

We came to London and an agency sent us a series of candidates to interview; Hawkins came with excellent references and… well, we seemed likely to get on well.”

Suddenly Fitzwilliam remembered a bit more of George Darcy’s advice on the subject.

He blinked and turned toward Elizabeth. “My father also said that, though giving preference to people within the household was a good strategy for maintaining the staff’s loyalty to the family, for one’s most personal servants—valets and lady’s maids—it was often preferable to hire from outside the household so that they would have no conflicted loyalties. ”

He let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a moment before adding, “I might not like to think about it, but I know that the servants talk about us. Some of that talk is beneficial—by knowing what is happening in our lives, they can better see to our needs—and I can only hope that unnecessary gossip, at least in this house and at Pemberley, is kept to a minimum. However, my valet and your lady’s maid are likely to see us at our most intimate… ”

At Elizabeth’s immediate blush, he amended, “Well, perhaps not at our most intimate…”

“I should hope not!” muttered his wife tartly, causing Fitzwilliam to color in kind.

“Erm… yes, well… the point I remember my father making was that they see us at our most… unguarded, and are often privy to our most personal concerns. He recommended that, for such a servant, I hire someone from outside the household, someone who would be wholly loyal to me from the start of his employment, rather than having to learn to distance himself from the other staff.”

Darcy turned his attention back to his wife, just in time to see her nod to herself. “And you had already thought of this before I said anything… and meanwhile I have been pressing maids from the house upon you. I apologize…”

Lizzy interrupted before he might work himself into a state. “I would have been very happy with Sally, I think, had she agreed. However, once her preference was made clear, I began to think about it—not so long before you, you see.”

Darcy was becoming more accustomed to Elizabeth’s gentle way of easing him out of his bouts of worry, but it remained novel enough to be amusing. “And now?”

“Now I begin to understand why young ladies often bring a maid from their father’s house when they marry.

I know that, in time, the staff here and at Pemberley shall be just as dear to me as those at Longbourn, but for now, they feel like Darcy servants…

and I am still very new to being a Darcy.

I see now that it would be very nice to have someone whom I do not need to worry is turning to Mrs. Wilkins with every little detail. ”

Some days later, after enduring what seemed like endless hours interviewing applicants, Elizabeth began to rethink her conviction.

The lady’s maids sent by the agency were all extremely well qualified, but none was quite right.

One looked down her nose at Mrs. Wilkins’ friendly ways; another was a little too obvious in her disappointment over the lack of lace and frills in the mistresses’ wardrobe.

One could barely refrain from swooning when Mr. Darcy entered the room, but worst was the very experienced lady’s maid whom Lizzy was almost certain had been sent to spy on the new Mrs. Darcy and pass along choice bits of inside gossip, although to whom, she had no idea.

By Sunday, Elizabeth had very nearly decided to lower her standards and take on a sweet if slightly featherbrained girl named Jessie. She had just said as much to Fitzwilliam while they were taking a turn in the park after church when the sound of a very feminine scream drew their attention.

They rushed to the end of a tall hedge only to be faced with the horrifying sight of a female trying to fight off an unkempt and obviously inebriated gentleman. Mr. Darcy was there in an instant, grabbing the attacker’s shoulder and forcing him back with no little struggle.

Once it was safe to approach, Elizabeth knelt beside the victim and eased her own shawl around the woman’s shoulders, hoping to lessen her shivering as well as covering the part of her bodice where the sleeve had been nearly ripped off.

Meanwhile, Darcy was disgusted to realize that he recognized the villain. “Westinghouse!”

Finally managing to twist out of the taller man’s grip, the Earl of Corning sneered, “Darcy! What the devil is your problem!?!” Pulling his coat straight did little to repair his disreputable appearance.

“I heard a lady cry out and assumed that she was in need of assistance. And rightly so, from what I can see!”

“What!?!” Lord Guy’s eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the two females. “Don’t be ridiculous, Darcy. That’s no lady—just a maid in my employ who has been stealing from my wife’s closet.”

Elizabeth was just helping the woman to stand and felt her stiffen.

Though obviously pained and fearful, she faced her accuser with only a small tremor in her voice; “Begging your pardon, sir, but I’m no longer in your employ.

I gave my notice last week, right after Lady Alice passed on, bless her soul.

The mistress said I was to have some of her clothes in return for my service—just ask Mrs. Greene if you don’t believe me. ”

Seeing that her former master had no intention of accepting her story, the maid turned to the kind lady beside her.

“Please ma’am, I swear I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!

I served my mistress since she was naught but a girl.

She left me a letter of recommendation and some of her gowns to take to the ragman when she died.

Ask the housekeeper, ma’am, she heard it all and knows I wouldn’t take anything that wasn’t mine. ”

Elizabeth nodded—it was a common enough practice for ladies of means to give their old clothing to a preferred servant.

Before she could say so, however, Lord Corning made a rude noise.

“You stupid little cow —a wife has no property of her own—it’s all mine , and I’ll not be giving you a brass farthing! ”

“Please, sir—ask Mrs. Greene. She knows I’m telling the truth!”

“Hah! I’m sure she will—all of you below stairs think you can lie to my face and steal me blind!

” He stepped closer and lowered his voice, punching his finger at her to emphasize each word.

“You stupid wench—you are standing there in my wife’s dress— my dress—and there is not a magistrate in the land who would believe you over me!

” He paused to wipe the spittle from his lips with the back of his hand.

“Corning…” Darcy began in a warning tone, but his lordship cut him off.

“Having said that, I’m certain we can come to some sort of arrangement that doesn’t involve picking oakum or walking the treadmill.” His leer left no doubt as to his intentions.

Darcy’s temper snapped. “Go home, Corning, or I shall call the constable and testify myself that you assaulted this girl.”