Page 25 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Netherfield

That Evening

Bridget crept up the servant’s stairs to the second floor, tiptoed down the corridor, and after listening carefully, slipped nervously into Miss Bingley’s sitting room.

Two of the maids had fallen ill the previous night, which meant that all the healthy servants were doing extra chores in additional to their own considerable duties.

One of these was to clean the fireplace and dust Miss Bingley’s sitting room. Bridget did not want this particular task, but the housekeeper had ordered her to do so, and she could hardly say no.

It should not be a problem, since the ladies had risen from the dinner table only thirty minutes previously, and thus it should be hours before Miss Bingley came upstairs.

Bridget certainly hoped so! She did not usually serve Miss Bingley directly and had apparently done a dreadful job of managing the coffee and tea this morning.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered Miss Bingley’s tirade in the dining parlor.

To make it worse, Mr. Darcy, who was tall, dark, handsome, and very rich, had been standing nearby while Miss Bingley yelled at her.

It was embarrassing and, frankly, frightening.

She could not afford to lose her position!

At least Miss Bennet would soon be mistress at Netherfield, and the lady was known to be kind and sensible. Bridget only had to survive a few more weeks under Miss Bingley’s harsh rule, and then her job would be more pleasant.

She smiled at this thought and knelt before the fireplace, clearing the grate of ashes and beginning to lay a new fire.

She scattered tinder across the logs and brushed her hands down her apron, turning to dust the furniture and fluff the cushions as she went.

This finished, she trimmed the wicks of the candles and turned her attention to cleaning the candelabras.

She was just finishing one last polish of the candlesticks when her sharp ears heard the familiar high pitched tones of Miss Bingley. Bridget’s eyes flared wide in distress as she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. The lady should not be above stairs yet!

She had every reason to be here working, of course, but after the tirade of abuse from Miss Bingley’s vindictive tongue this morning, she was not inclined to take chances.

She hurried over to the door which led to the empty master’s suite and rushed through, pulled the door behind her, and then froze as she heard Miss Bingley enter the sitting room she had just vacated.

She could go through the main door into the corridor, of course, but her heart was beating fast, and she needed time to calm herself. Furthermore, if someone did happen to find her here, she could explain that she had wished to check the empty bedchamber to be certain that all was well within.

Of course, it would not do to be found eavesdropping on her betters, so Bridget took a step toward the large bed, only to halt in disbelief, which shifted to horror, as her reluctant ears made out the conversation between Miss Bingley and her personal maid.

/

“Agnes, I require your assistance with a matter of great delicacy,” Miss Bingley said imperiously.

“How can I be of service, Miss?” Agnes asked humbly.

“Matters have become desperate,” Miss Bingley declared dramatically. “Given my brother’s absurd engagement, I shall have to direct the course of events myself. Agnes, I need you to help me execute a compromise of Mr. Darcy.”

There was a moment of silence before the lady’s maid said dubiously, “With all respect, Miss, there is no guarantee that Mr. Darcy will marry you if we succeed.”

“I am not paying you for your opinion, woman,” Miss Bingley snapped.

“My apologies, Miss, I spoke out of turn.”

Bridget, listening from the next room, could easily match the older maid’s meek tone to the subservient curtsey all the female servants knew to give Miss Bingley when she was peeved.

“Mr. Darcy is a gentleman and will do his duty,” Miss Bingley declared. “Have no concern on that score.”

“Of course, Miss. What do you wish me to do?” Agnes, her uncertainty laid to rest, sounded almost eager to assist in the dastardly enterprise.

Of course, should Miss Bingley become Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, the position of her lady’s maid would also be considerably advanced.

Agnes stood much to gain from the scheme.

“I must be sure that Mr. Darcy’s valet is not about and that no servants see me sneaking into his room,” Miss Bingley ordered. “I need you to ensure that he is either asleep or occupied, and that there will be no one else about at – hmmm. Perhaps two o’clock in the morning?”

“Yes, Miss, I can do that,” Agnes stated confidently.

“Very well. Let me know the details as soon as possible. I intend to move quickly, as Mr. Darcy may no longer be willing to reside in this house now that my foolish brother has offered for Jane Bennet. I hope to compromise Mr. Darcy tomorrow night, and no later than two nights from now.”

“As you wish, Miss Bingley,” Agnes replied.

A moment later, Bridget heard the unmistakable sounds of both mistress and maid departing the sitting room, thankfully into the main corridor, and within a minute, all was silent outside.

Bridget, whose heart was pounding, whose breath was shaky, felt tears form in her eyes and cascade down her pale cheeks.

This was terrible! And yet, what was she to do?

She was but a sixteen year old underservant who had no right to be eavesdropping on Miss Bingley.

And yet, it seemed a tragic thing that Mr. Darcy, who was always courteous to the servants, no matter how lowly they were, should be trapped into marriage!

She moaned before hurrying out into the corridor and on to her next task. Her Mamma had always told her to pray when she was confused. She would pray while she worked, and she hoped the Lord on High would have mercy on her and make it obvious what she should do.

/

Music Room - Dining Room

Longbourn

Jane smiled at the maid as she placed a basket of bread on the table, and said to the girl, “Thank you, Mabel, you may go.”

The girl retreated obediently and shut the door behind her, leaving Jane, Elizabeth, and Lydia to eat. Mr. Bennet was still in his temporary office next door writing a letter to Mr. Gardiner, but he would join them as soon as possible.

Lydia speared a morsel of beef, placed it in her mouth, and nearly moaned with pleasure.

Mrs. Carter was not as gifted a cook as Mrs. Hanson, who was currently installed at the hunting lodge with her mother and two other sisters, but the beef was tender and exquisite.

The taste almost made up for the dark, drafty, boarded up hole which had been the window in the former music room, now the dining room.

She hoped that glass would be purchased soon so that the room could once again be filled with light.

She also hoped that the dining room would soon be available for meals.

“Thank you for fetching beef from Meryton, Lydia,” Jane said. “This is truly excellent!”

“It is,” Lydia agreed happily, and then added, “I daresay you will have beef every day of the year when you are Mrs. Bingley.”

“And lobster, and quail, and pineapples, if you like,” Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eye.

“You are absurd, both of you,” Jane said laughingly, and then turned to Lydia and said, “Did you have a pleasant walk to and from Meryton today?”

Lydia compressed her lips at the memory of the whispers and cold glances from the townsfolk, until a more pleasant memory intruded. “I had a very pleasant conversation with Lieutenant Wickham, who was kind enough to escort me and Mercy back from Meryton. He even carried my basket!”

“That was kind,” Jane said approvingly.

“It was,” Lydia replied, her face brightening. “Mr. Wickham is so handsome in his red coat, is he not?”

“He is,” Elizabeth agreed. “What did you speak of today?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” Lydia said, and hastily took another morsel of beef before the others could eat it all up. “He is so charming that even speaking of the weather with him is a pleasure. He does not like Mr. Darcy either, which is good.”

She shoveled another bite of beef in her mouth, and when she looked up, was startled to see that both Elizabeth and Jane were staring at her with obvious concern.

“What is wrong?” she demanded.

“What do you mean that Mr. Wickham does not like Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh,” Lydia said, waving her now empty fork around, “well, Mr. Wickham told me that Mr. Darcy cheated him of something. I do not remember all of the details – something about a church living? Not that I think he should be upset about that! He would be much less handsome if forced to wear clothing like Mr. Collins!”

The older girls exchanged worried glances, and Jane said, “Did he tell you all of this as you walked home today?”

“No, no, he told me at our aunt’s party a few days ago. I think Mr. Darcy’s father was Mr. Wickham’s godfather? Something like that. At any rate, he quite despises Mr. Darcy, and who can blame him?”

“I do!” Elizabeth said fiercely. “Mr. Wickham ought not to slander Mr. Darcy in such a way, and especially to a new acquaintance! It was very poorly done of him, and something you would expect from a scoundrel and not a gentleman!”

Lydia turned a frowning countenance toward her and said, “But Mr. Darcy said you were not handsome enough to dance with, do you not remember?”

“I do remember, of course,” Elizabeth returned, her cheeks now becomingly flushed, “but I have spent many more hours with him, and while his statement at the assembly was extraordinarily rude, I am confident now that he is a very honorable man!”

“Lizzy!” Lydia exclaimed. “Are you in love with Mr. Darcy?”

“In love with?” her sister returned, looking down at her plate in some discomfort. “No, of course not, Lyddy. I am merely certain that the master of Pemberley is a kindly and good man. After all, he would not be Mr. Bingley’s closest friend if he was a rascal.”

“That is true enough,” Jane said warmly, though her brow remained crinkled. “I do not much like the sound of this Mr. Wickham, Lydia. As Lizzy said, it was wrong of him to speak in such a way.”

“He was probably merely wishing to make conversation,” Lydia said carelessly. She reached out to take another piece of beef, only to have her fork pushed away by her second eldest sister.

“Do not be greedy! Father has not had any yet!”

“Oh, very well,” Lydia replied, and reached for the mashed potatoes. She was very fond of potatoes.