Page 37 of The Last House in Lambton (Pride and Prejudice Variations #6)

Mrs Reynolds accepted this speech in patient silence, and I was glad she did not cluck at me for suggesting the management of one additional person in so great a house was of any concern to her.

We spoke of Ruth’s progress, and she asked that we provide her with a dress of grey wool similar to that worn by Miss Bell.

This would set her apart from her confederates and dampen any urges they might have to coopt her into helping with their chores.

“That is an excellent idea. Where might I find something for her?”

“Leave it to me, miss. I shall put the charge on Mrs Jennings’s ledger to be paid in full by the second quarter day from now if that will suit.”

“Perfectly. I thank you for everything, ma’am.” I spoke humbly and from a position of deep obligation. What they had not done for us! I lowered my eyes to the desk between us.

“You must be aware,” she said in a kindly voice, “that your visit with Mrs Jennings has been of great benefit to Miss Darcy. She has enjoyed her occupation and has always had an affinity for the elderly.”

I felt my eyes fill with tears at such a thoughtful reassurance that our imposition had not been felt. With a heroic briskness, I sniffed them back and smiled my gratitude.

That evening, I noticed a book on the small table next to the chair in the salon where we gathered after dinner. Mr Gardiner had been persuaded to a game of backgammon with Mrs Annesley, and Mr Darcy was dealing cards to his sister after I declined to play.

The book was one my father owned, a translation from Greek.

I opened it to a page at random and read, Think of yourself as dead.

You have lived your life. Now, take what is left and live it properly .

I took this sentiment with me to bed and on the following morning, the day of our departure, I clung to it like a mast in the storm of my feelings.

I said goodbye to the maids with small gifts of woollen gloves I had bought at Stevenson’s.

I gave Georgiana’s lady’s maid a set of linen and lace handkerchiefs and bestowed upon Sam a flannel muffler.

I sought out Maggie in the kitchen and gave her a pair of gloves as well, asking if she might tell me how she made the apple compote we so often enjoyed for breakfast.

I did not give gifts to Mrs Reynolds, Mrs Annesley, or Mr Parker, for this would have been below their dignity.

Nor did I have anything to offer Georgiana save a smacking kiss on the cheek and a light scold for having attached me to such a degree that I was certain to cry upon our imminent farewell at the door.

She swore she would write to me, demanded I write in return, and staked a lifelong claim upon my friendship which I was obliged, with a terrific pang in my heart, to reciprocate.

Time went both slowly and swiftly, and suddenly, I was in the front hall shaking Mr Darcy’s hand and being ushered out the door towards the waiting coach by my uncle.

I had been laudably serene to this point, and I might have hung on to my dignity if, at that moment, the kennel master had not walked by and my little pup not run straight into my arms.

“Oh, you little scamp,” I said. “Go and receive your training and be a good companion to whatever lady...” My voice trailed off, I handed her back to Mr Wood, and I fled into the house, calling over my shoulder, “Forgive me, Uncle. I have forgotten something!”

Aware of all the eyes upon my crumpling face, I dashed up the stairs, tearing off my bonnet as I went through the hall of apartments and up to the gallery.

There, I flung my bonnet away, fell on my knees, and with my arms on the sill of a low sash window, buried my face in the crook of an elbow, and burst into the most horrible, wrenching sobs.

Not even in the wake of my close call with violation had I wept with such disconsolate intensity, as though my chest would rip open and spill out its contents on the floor of that solemn, beloved space.

I felt myself lifted and set on a chair, and there, crouched before me was Mr Darcy once again.

“What has happened?” he asked with piercing gentleness.

“If only I had not seen Queenie,” I cried.

“Who?”

“The runt. I love her so.” I again crumpled into bitter weeping .

He gave me his handkerchief and said, “I can send her with you if you would like.”

I sat up, mopped my nose, and answered him irritably. “This is not a moment to be rational, sir. Besides, my mother would have her sent to the road to take her chances with a peddler.”

“I see.”

“You do not see!” I cried. “I have fallen in love with your sister and with Pemberley and with Auntie and-and?—”

“And?”

“Oh, who have I not come to care for? There is Mrs Reynolds and Penny and Ruth and Sam and Maggie and Mr Brown, and even Mr Parker, who is not so terrible?—”

“Is there no one else?”

I came to the abrupt end of my weeping and spoke crossly while swiping at my ravaged face. “Oh, how can you be so wicked as to press me for what you know I cannot say? How can you not know it? How can you not know who else I love?”

I broke into tears of real grief then, and uttered a pitiable wail. “It is hopeless, sir. Hopeless! I wish you would go away!”

He let pass a terribly long moment of silence, but he did not do as I asked.

Instead, he said in a voice dripping with compassion, “Mr Gardiner asked Mr Parker to hurry you along before he stepped into the coach. I told my butler he had better not find you for at least five minutes, but I am afraid he will be here momentarily.”

“Oh,” I said in confusion, struggling to brush the dampened hair off my forehead and putting my cold palms on my inflamed cheeks. “I shall spare him the trouble, sir.”

I stood, retrieved my bonnet, and would have made a show of gathering my dignified leave if he had not then taken my hand and kissed my fingers. “Do you trust me, Elizabeth?” he murmured.

“I can ask no more of you, Mr Darcy. I have had the most marvellous tramp, and now, as Marcus Aurelius suggests, I have lived my life, and I must now take what is left?—”

He gently interrupted while pressing my hand to underscore his sincerity. “Do not forget he also said to dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”

“God bless you, sir,” I said in a broken voice, ripping my hands from his unrelenting grip, and then I went swiftly down the corridor, down the stairs, out into the open air, and into the coach.