Page 4 of Blessed Interference (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
Mistress’s Quarters
Netherfield Hall
The Next Morning
The curtains of the mistress’s suite had been drawn back to flood the room with light, but Elizabeth thought the room would have looked better in shadow.
Miss Bingley, who had been serving as hostess for her brother, had been inordinately fond of crimson and scarlet and the latest fashions, whether they were truly in good taste or not.
Her flair for the flamboyant did not at all match up with Jane’s preferences for the practical and simple and lovely.
A great deal of redecorating of these few rooms would need to be done.
Mrs. Nicholls hovered near the door, watching as her soon-to-be mistress drifted around the room, examining the furnishings and decorations.
Elizabeth bent over a small side table, eyeing it with derision.
She could tell from the carvings that it must have cost Miss Bingley – or more likely, Mr. Bingley – a pretty penny, but the legs were carved entirely too thin for any sort of sturdiness, and even the flat top had an air of fragility that made one wary of using it to hold anything heavier than a teacup and saucer.
One or two such pieces Elizabeth could have understood, for they were in their own way quite striking, but to furnish an entire room with furniture that would likely be broken and in need of repair or replacement in no more than ten years? It was absurd.
Elizabeth straightened again, glancing around with a jaundiced eye before looking to where her sister was now consulting with the housekeeper.
She was glad to see that Jane was determined to rearrange the rooms to match her own taste, rather than worrying overmuch about how expensive Miss Bingley’s recent redecorations had been.
Of course, Jane had not inherited her mother’s spendthrift frivolity and was keeping a clear and level head regarding expense and practicality.
“We do not need to purchase anything new for now,” Jane remarked with decision, “as there are many rooms in the house which are not being used. I will make a tour of them in time and perhaps find a table or desk which can be moved in here. Much of this will be placed elsewhere, though, as the rooms are too cluttered.”
“What of the wallpaper on the east wall, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Nicholls asked in a steady tone.
Elizabeth turned toward the wall in question and grimaced. It had been expensive to purchase, no doubt, but it was not to her taste, or Jane’s.
It was a panoramic scene of the Orient, though the exact subject was rather doubtful.
It was likely supposed to be India, Elizabeth expected, although she was not sure whether camels and elephants were used as beasts of burden and riding in the same locales.
Either way, there were far too many of both animals, as well as parrots in dejected-looking palm trees, and monkeys capering across the dirt, and buildings that might be quite charming as picturesque ruins, were one to see them in person, but left much to be desired in the portrayal of their unruined glory.
“I confess I do not like it at all,” Jane said, wrinkling her nose. “I prefer something far more demure. But it seems a pity to change it when it is still new.”
“Charles would wish you to change it, Jane,” Elizabeth said firmly.
“Indeed, he would, Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Nicholls chimed in.
Jane smiled and said, “I will think on it, anyway.”
The door opened at this juncture to reveal Lucy Wilson, who said, “Pardon me, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. Mrs. Nicholls, you wished to speak to the butcher, and he has just arrived.”
Mrs. Nicholls turned an apologetic countenance on the lady who would soon be her mistress. “Do you mind if I go to speak to Mr. Handsel?”
“Not at all,” Jane said and waited until the housekeeper had left the room before turning to the maid. “Lucy, I am well aware that you are partially responsible for bringing my betrothed and me together. Thank you.”
“It was my honor, Miss Bennet,” Lucy said with a bob of her head. “I could not bear to hear Miss Bingley lie to Mr. Bingley in such a way!”
“You were very brave, and I wished to ask whether you would be willing to serve as my personal maid.”
“Oh!” Lucy cried out. “I would enjoy that above all things, Miss Bennet, if you think I have enough experience.”
“You and your sister Anna helped with all five of us Bennet sisters,” Elizabeth pointed out with a smile. “I am certain you will do a wonderful job with Jane.”
“Thank you, Miss,” Lucy said, smiling.
***
Housekeepers’ Room
Netherfield
Later
“You will do an excellent job as a ladies’ maid,” Mrs. Nicholls said approvingly, “but we will need to hire at least three more maids since not all of the ones turned off in December are available now. Do you have any suggestions, Lucy?”
“I have a younger sister and three female cousins who are quite young but wish to enter service,” Lucy said. “Would you like me to speak to my mother and aunts on the subject?”
“Yes, please. I am confident any relation of yours will do a good job.”
***
Wilson Home
Longbourn Estate
The Next Morning
Sunlight slanted across the rough wooden floor planks as Lucy stepped into the snug little cottage that would always be home to her.
Her father had lived here all his life, and brought his bride home here, and Lucy relished the familiarity of the wooden cottage well-sealed against the cold and just big enough for the family that lived there.
Lucy had been impressed with Longbourn House when she had first entered service there as a maid, and more impressed yet with the size and scope of Netherfield Hall.
She liked both houses well, but neither of them felt warm and welcoming like this building.
It was not, truly, the rooms that made it home, but her family.
She was permitted a day off every fortnight, but she could not always use it to visit, especially, of course, during her time in London.
She had grown used to missing her parents and her younger siblings, but she ever rejoiced to see them when she did have the chance.
She smiled now to see her mother, who was bent over the stove, adding wood.
Gray streaked Mrs. Wilson’s auburn bun, from which wisps were escaping to frame her face, lined with nearly fifty years of laughter and tears, cares and joys.
She was as thin as ever, her frame showing little sign of the seven children she had borne and raised.
She was wearing a blue linsey-woolen dress that she had owned for a decade, and Lucy smiled at the familiarity of it.
Mrs. Wilson stood up from the stove, brushed her hair back, and turned towards the door in curiosity at the light spilling through. Her face lit up when she saw the newcomer, and she gave a cry of joy.
“Lucy, my dear!” she cried out, hurrying over to pull her daughter into her arms.
Lucy returned the embrace with enthusiasm, smiling as she did so. Even now, at five and twenty, she and Anna were so much alike that many people, even family, had trouble telling them apart. But her mother never, ever mistook one for another.
“How long can you stay?” her mother demanded.
“I can stay for several hours,” Lucy replied, looking around her happily just as her younger sister, Amelia, age sixteen, entered the room.
“Lucy?” the girl asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.
“Yes,” Lucy said with a grin.
“You are back from London! Was it wonderful?”
“It was interesting, anyway,” Lucy said, and turned to her mother. “I have some business to discuss. Do you mind if we talk about that first, and then we can enjoy a comfortable gossip about the family?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Wilson said with a nod. “I made some of those apple tarts you like so much, and we can savor them in a short while.”
Lucy grinned happily, and the three women took seats near the fire.
The Wilsons had been blessed with three daughters and four sons.
Two of the sons were apprenticed to the blacksmith in Meryton, and the other boys were doubtless working in the stables or on fencing or something of the sort with Mr. Wilson.
“Mrs. Nicholls needs some additional servants for Netherfield Hall,” Lucy explained, “and I suggested that perhaps Amelia and our cousins Phoebe and Susanna might be willing. Mrs. Nicholls knows that all three have little experience, but Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet are patient people, and it will be an excellent place for them to learn their duties as maids.”
To her surprise, her mother frowned at these words, but Amelia promptly cried out, “Oh, I would like that above all things. Do say I may, Mamma, please?”
“Of course you can, my dear,” Mrs. Wilson said, her frown dissipating to make way for a smile. “For the moment Amelia, love, I need to speak to Lucy in private about something. Would you kindly return to the bedchamber and finish your mending?”
Amelia grimaced but obediently rose, embraced her older sister, and disappeared back into the smaller bedchamber in the house.
Lucy was concerned now and said, “Is something wrong, Mamma?”
Mrs. Wilson compressed her lips and sighed deeply. “Yes, something is wrong with your cousin, Susannah.”
***
Kitchen
Longbourn
Three Hours Later
“He forced her?” Anna Wilson demanded, her face pale.
Lucy felt her eyes fill with tears, and she nodded.
“Dear God above,” Anna murmured. “And she is with child?”
“Yes,” Lucy said soberly, wiping her wet eyes with her sleeve. “Susannah is staying with our aunt Hudson in Birmingham, and she will stay there until the baby is born.”
Anna’s eyes were now flashing fire. “That … that…”
“I know,” Lucy said, gulping, “and yet, there is nothing anyone can do about it. No one would believe a tenant farmer’s daughter over a handsome militia lieutenant.”
“I do,” a new voice said, and the twins turned alarmed looks on Mrs. Hill, who was standing in the door which led to the pantry.
“Oh, Mrs. Hill,” Lucy said, rising to her feet and bobbing her head. “I did not know you were there. I apologize for coming without notice and keeping Anna from her work.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” the housekeeper of Longbourn replied in a kind tone, though her expression was grim. “I am always pleased to see you, and it is good to know about this Wickham’s disgusting proclivities.”
The woman hesitated for a moment and then shook her head. “I do not like the thought of that man walking tame here at Longbourn, not with the young ladies and servants often alone.”
“Perhaps Mr. Bennet would be willing to act?” Lucy suggested hopefully, but her twin said, “I do not think that he will do anything, Sister. He would not care to accuse the man based on the word of a tenant girl.”
The sisters sighed in unison, but Mrs. Hill said, with a martial look in her eyes, “I quite agree with you about Mr. Bennet, but I am determined that something must be done about that wicked man!”
***
Housekeeper’s Office
Longbourn
The Next Morning
Elizabeth Bennet felt her knees wobble, and she sank into a convenient chair.
“I do not believe it,” she said in a hollow tone. “I do not!”
“Do you really believe that young Susannah Cartier would lie about such a thing?” Mrs. Hill asked sternly.
Elizabeth gulped and looked out the small window of the housekeeper’s office, which faced the stables. She could not see clearly now, not with the tears filming her eyes.
“I cannot believe it,” she whispered again.
“Well, I do,” Jane declared sturdily. “It is a horrible thing, without a doubt, but I know the Cartiers well; we both do. You know Susannah would not lie about such a thing.”
“But to force her?” Elizabeth said, turning back with a stricken countenance. “It is beyond wicked!”
Jane scowled hideously and said, “Even if it was not forced – though I do trust Susannah’s description of the event – what does it say about Mr. Wickham that he would be intimate with a fifteen-year-old tenant girl?”
Elizabeth, to her own surprise, burst into noisy tears.
She had not been, she admitted, deeply in love with Lieutenant Wickham, but she had long thought of him as her personal model of the amiable, pleasing, and charming gentleman.
And now, to discover that the man had attacked and ruined an innocent servant girl?
It was beyond her capacity to understand, to believe, and yet, Susannah Cartier and her family were reliable and honorable individuals.
Moreover, if it had been an honorable man who impregnated Susannah Cartier, they would be engaged or married by now.
Jane handed her handkerchief to her sister, who mopped her face, and then turned to Mrs. Hill and said, “I do not think there is much that we can here at Longbourn, but Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham are enemies, and there might be something the master of Pemberley can do.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” the housekeeper said gratefully. “I do not like thinking that this Wickham can wander about Longbourn freely, not with the girls under my charge, not to mention you ladies.”