Page 45 of The Last House in Lambton (Pride and Prejudice Variations #6)

Of course, the moment came when the ladies left the table, the servants left the room, and I poured out the ritual glass of port for Mr Gardiner.

I asked after the roads, he reported they were in a disgraceful state, and we mutually condemned the poor use of our taxes which should at the very least provide a means of easy travel in this country.

In short, we survived, and after my sister filled the subsequent hour with music, Mr Gardiner, understandably spent, went to his room.

On the following day, Mr Gardiner came down for breakfast, and we ate alone. I assumed he had the sense not to plague Mrs Jennings with his presence, since I had heard the widow had not warmed to him at all.

“I intend to see Mrs Jennings’s house with my niece today,” he announced. And though he spoke in a close imitation of an agreeable tone, I suspected he was still a touch unreconciled to the awkward position in which he found both himself and his relations.

“Oh?” I asked blandly.

I felt the danger, for I could hardly reply that I knew where it was precisely, that I had seen it, that it was cheerless and sat on a poorly drained lot, or that I had carried his niece up its stairs and laid her down on her bed in a state very near to a swoon.

“I believe the road should be quite passable in another hour,” I added noncommittally.

Our guests returned some hours later, and we went about the mundane business of a long afternoon.

As I surreptitiously observed Elizabeth’s face during what glimpses I was afforded, I wondered what seemed to secretly amuse her and regretted we could not speak privately so I could outright ask.

But there too, I felt the danger. I could not in any way suggest she and I were in the habit of speaking together and behaved with the slightly bored, distant politeness that would lead anyone to conclude the lady was simply my sister’s guest and, as such, not an object with me.

The toll this projected front took on me was unexpected.

I felt very close to downcast as a result of missing the smallest opportunity to be in the same room with her and particularly regretted that I could not entice her outside for a walk since we woke up to an exquisite winter’s day.

It was for this reason perhaps, I thought to remind her of my existence when I heard a commotion in the hall.

Two footmen were resurrecting a bath chair from a closet, and upon enquiry of one of the passing maids with a stack of carriage rugs, I learnt Georgiana and Miss Bennet meant to take Mrs Jennings out for a little air.

I walked straight to my kennel and sent the master with the runt to accompany the expedition with a concocted reason for doing so, that of my intent to groom the least promising pup to be a young lady’s pet.

In fact, I would never sell her, since to my mind she was already, after one kiss to the muzzle, the property of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Struggling against the sense of resentment one must feel at being forced to forgo a pleasure long desired, I went instead towards my duty, which was to Mr Gardiner. We met in my study and engaged in a long conference with regard to Mrs Jennings.

“I am not convinced the Frye house is suitable for her any longer,” he began. “Much as I dread the prospect, I believe I must take her to London.”

“That will not be easy,” I replied carefully.

“No, but with Lizzy to support her, I believe it can be done.”

“Certainly it can,” I said after a momentary pause, “but, forgive me, I understand Mrs Jennings does not always take well to strangers and that she is subject to frights in unfamiliar surroundings. At the very least, Miss Bennet would need two capable maids to help her, which I could, and would, insist upon providing. Mrs Jennings is comfortable with those who wait on her here and has accepted them to varying degrees.”

“Hmm, I suppose you are right, but that would require an additional coach. I do not know what your experience might be, but I have never yet gone anywhere in a caravan that did not take far longer than it should.”

“Simply getting enough fresh horses is a challenge, I grant you.”

I let him ponder this and could well imagine what he was thinking, having just come up from London. There are few delightful aspects to a long journey, and in winter, there are none. The yards are filthier than usual, the breakdowns, the strained hocks, and mired wheels a perpetual nuisance.

“And,” I proceeded carefully, as though lost in thought, “if Mrs Jennings were to fall ill, which again, forgive me, is more likelihood than possibility, you would be stranded midway and left to find a physician while housed at some middling inn. She is quite advanced in years, and though she seems to be thriving, I cannot help but believe her health is fragile. Since I have met her, I have seen what I suspect is a decline. She does not remember people, that is clear, but sometimes of late, she struggles to recall certain words.”

He rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, supporting the side of his head on his folded knuckles, in the attitude of a man confronting an unanswerable dilemma.

“If you are suggesting that the journey might kill her,” he said upon a sigh, “I cannot but concur. Yet, what choice do I have? I cannot leave her in Lambton to the care of strangers, and I understand she has no friends at all here.”

“Your resentment is more than understandable, but in defence of her neighbours, I shall offer this: the vicar explained to me when I enquired that he had been actively discouraged from visiting the lady, and it is generally believed she does not like company. It is a poor excuse, but it is something, at least.”

“Lizzy has told me this as well, Mr Darcy. If only my wife had known—but of course, we were also misled.”

The moment had come for me to try, at least, to do some good. I spoke as casually as I possibly could but with an inflection of sincerity.

“Perhaps, if you do not object, Mrs Jennings should remain at Pemberley.”

He objected and for a rather long time. I wore away at him, and because he was a reasonable man, he knew mine to be the most compassionate answer for an elderly lady at the very end of her life.

We argued with polite intensity, and at one point, I hinted that the job of caring for the widow on such a taxing journey would fall to a young lady who would be stretched to the point of breaking and might, herself, fall ill because of it.

He made a little gesture with his hand to hush me and closed his eyes briefly before heaving a great sigh.

“You must give me your word that this will have no greater impact on you than the use of a room and the oversight of Mrs Reynolds. You will not delay going to town or any such thing, will you? I would also insist upon providing a woman to care for her.”

We settled on a few reasonable details, and as a gesture of his practicality, he noted that our decision would most affect my sister, and that he would not proceed without her blessing.

I called for Georgiana, and he stepped away.

When I broached the subject, my sister looked upon me with a slight frown of befuddlement.

Apparently, I must never have ever consulted her about anything because she hardly knew how to reply at first. Once she comprehended what I was asking, however, she readily agreed with the plan and reassured me she would be heartily relieved if Mrs Jennings could somehow remain a resident of Pemberley.

Mr Gardiner again came down, and we formalised our understanding with a handshake.

“I suppose I shall have to sell the house,” he mused. “Do you know of an agent?”

“I do, but there is little growth of that sort in Lambton. It may be vacant for some time.”

He looked wearily at me, as though to say, “Of course, even that would not be easy,” and I offered up a suggestion.

“There are, however, single young men, apprentices and such, who come and go with the mining interests. I have often thought the village could benefit from a boarding house for them.”

He looked up with sharp interest. “A boarding house, you say?”

Our constraint was momentarily set aside, and we spoke freely of the possibility of creating a business in Lambton, of agents, bankers, solicitors, and the skilled labourers he would require to change the interior of the widow’s house to better accommodate lodgers.

We were not now instantaneous friends. He was still quite put out with the circumstances in which he found himself and still shocked by Mrs Jennings’s condition.

He was not a man to enjoy being helped along, much reminding me of someone else in that family, but he did seem more at ease with me, less suspicious that I was a dangerous rake, and I hoped he would soften his opinion of his niece’s conduct accordingly.

“I am afraid I must impose on your hospitality for a few more days at least, Mr Darcy,” he said almost sheepishly. “There is much to arrange before I leave for London, and Lizzy will need some time to make arrangements for Mrs Jennings. I shall certainly need to hire an attendant.”

“I am told one of the upstairs maids is very good with the lady. Might I suggest her as a possibility?”

He shook his head and almost chuckled. “I should have known you would have a solution.”

“I have been recently taken to task for presumption, a habit that is harder to break than one might suspect,” I replied with rueful amusement. “Might I presume once again and speak to Mrs Reynolds?”

We shook hands again and spent the bulk of that day and the following ones in our separate pursuits.

Mr Gardiner went to Derby one day and back and forth to Lambton on the others for various meetings with regard to the disposition of the house.

I was glad of the reprieve of whatever time was left to me to steal glimpses of his niece before he took her away .

The glimpses I was afforded were at times quite mundane and at other times crushing.

On Sunday, we went to church. Miss Bennet, known to everyone as a nobody from somewhere else, sat with my family and endured the whispers and stares with patrician disinterest. She looked blandly upon the vicar and his wife who, recognising they had perhaps overlooked someone they should not have, were anxious to make amends.

The remainder of Sunday was restful, however.

She sat at a little desk in the salon and wrote a letter that consumed her interest for a prolonged period and threw her into a deeply introspective mood.

I longed to commiserate, to offer what comfort I could, particularly when I saw her deftly toss the pages of her letter into the fire. What must she have written? I wondered.

I watched her from the window as she entered her uncle’s coach for a visit to the village.

I missed her return but listened for the sound of her footsteps on the staircase.

I had become utterly attuned to her, as though I was a mere compass needle to her magnetic north.

It was pitiful—indeed, I did pity myself—and it was also wonderful to spend days upon days without once thinking of myself.

I saw her face in the window as I rode out to meet with my tenants, and I heard her humming sweetly to herself as she went down the hall.

I was also perfectly aware when a woman presented herself at my front door and demanded to see her, and I could not refrain from stepping out of my library to catch a glimpse of the dreaded Mrs Burke.

What I saw caused me to stifle a shout of laughter, for this was just the sort of commanding autocrat as would instantly raise Elizabeth Bennet’s hackles.

Clearly, Mrs Burke was on a mission of confrontation, and if there had been a contest in the ring, she would have prevailed, for she was a brute of a woman indeed.

But this was no longer the Dark Ages, and they would wage war with words, and I pitied the woman for the shredding she was about to undergo.

For the one hundredth time in the last three weeks, I would have paid a fortune to witness what was taking place in my own house.

I did not expect ever to find out what was said between them, but that afternoon, my opportunity to enquire if the woman was sent home in a demoralised heap presented itself.

I was encamped in my study, ostensibly pouring over my ledgers for hours on end, but in effect, this was my virtual hill upon which I stood in watchful readiness to go to Elizabeth’s aid, should she have need of me.

The door, when left slightly ajar, was angled perfectly to catch many sounds, and I was perpetually in the attitude of listening for news.

Brown must have stepped away from his post momentarily, since the first floor of the house was almost deathly quiet when I heard a lady’s footsteps come down the staircase, and by their tripping cadence, I knew to whom those slippers belonged.

I quickly stepped out of my room and met Elizabeth outside the door to the library to take advantage of such an unexpected, private opportunity, and I greeted her almost as I would a long-lost friend.

We smiled warmly at one another, and I said, “I understand your archenemy paid you a call this morning.”

She chuckled in reply that the woman very soon regretted her courtesy, since Mrs Jennings did not recognise her, and she suddenly found herself making an application to Mr Gardiner for her continued employment, rather than offering up whatever scold she had come to deliver.

“Is your pride avenged?” I asked, wishing with all my heart I could tuck one of her curls back behind her ear.

She flicked the ringlet back into place and grinned as though ashamed to admit just how much pleasure she took from introducing Mrs Burke to her altered circumstances .

I was aware Elizabeth had not come down to speak to me but to go to the library, and I was even more acutely aware that we were in a private conference in a public space.

Thinking we could steal a few more moments together, I extended my hand towards the library door and asked, “Might I help you find a book?”

That proved a fatal question. Suddenly, as though mutually staggered by the same invisible blow, we realised that with the early arrival of Mrs Jennings’s housekeeper, Mr Gardiner had no reason to linger.

The lady’s eyes flew up to mine before she lowered her face to the ground, and murmured, “Perhaps I should not become immersed in something new.”

Then, as was so typical of her, Elizabeth retreated down the hall, treating me to yet another prolonged view of her back.