Sudden Awakenings (The Other Paths Collection)

Chapter 21

Darcy could not help but feel a sense of pride over his new wife’s seamless transition into being the mistress of the estate. After her exceptional skill hosting her first dinner, she was soon navigating every aspect of her new role, from planning the meals, to visiting tenants.

But Darcy was not used to sharing his responsibilities, and sometimes their views clashed. She initially resented his choice of a lady’s maid for her, claiming it should have been her responsibility to hire such a role, and upon further reflection, Darcy realized she was correct in her estimation.

But Parker’s easygoing manner and Yorkshire accent soon had Elizabeth charmed, and her skills as a hairdresser and seamstress were so adept that Elizabeth was forced to admit he had made an excellent choice in her.

The hiring of staff was not the only household responsibility Darcy found hard to relinquish.

“The house seems so dark,” He remarked one evening when they were together in the drawing room.“I could have sworn there were more candles in this room yesterday.”

He was attempting to read a book, while Elizabeth played cards with Mrs. Younge and Georgiana practiced on the pianoforte .

“There were more,” Elizabeth said. “I asked Mrs. Reynolds to put away a third of the candlesticks. We do not need so much light in this room in the evenings.”

“I disagree. I can hardly see the words on the page,” he complained. “I shall go blind at this rate.”

“Then move closer to the fire,” she suggested. “Or do something else besides reading, if you cannot see well enough.”

“Why would you ask her to remove the candlesticks?” he asked.

“When I went over the accounts this morning, I noticed nearly a fourth of the household budget is spent on lighting this house. By not using as many candles in each room, we can reduce our expenses in that area by at least twenty percent,” she explained.

Darcy felt his ire rise. He bit his lip to hide his irritation. “I see. And what other economies have you made?”

“I instructed Mrs. Reynolds to have the maids light the fires thirty minutes later in the morning, which will reduce our fuel consumption, and to keep the drapes closed in any unused rooms, so the rooms will remain insulated. Oh, and I asked her to reduce our weekly grocery order by ten percent whenever we are not entertaining. We do not need so much food for just the four of us.”

“Madam,” he said through gritted teeth, “I beg you would discuss such things with me first, before making changes.”

Mrs. Younge, sensing the master and mistress required a private discussion, quietly ushered Georgiana to another room.

“Why are you angry?” Elizabeth asked, folding her arms across her chest. “The household accounts are the purview of the lady of the house, are they not? I am simply taking necessary steps to reduce waste and run the household more efficiently. It has been long, has it not, since there has been a lady of the house to do so?”

Darcy laid aside his book and stood to face her. “The economies you take are, for one thing, unnecessary, and for another, unwise! Did I not tell you, firstly, that there is no need to scrimp and save? This house could easily boast twice as many candles lit in the evening, and we would suffer no losses! We could have the fires lit all day, every day, even in summer, and would only be worse for wear by the sweltering heat it would cause!”

“The rich do not stay rich by wasting their fortunes on needless extravagance!” Elizabeth argued. “A little economy goes a long way in ensuring your fortune endures for the next generation.”

Darcy forced himself to count to four, taking a deep breath before replying. “I know you meant well, Mrs. Darcy, but I do not think you considered all the ramifications before acting. The cutting of the food budget, for instance. Did you not consider where all the excess food went? What we do not use is distributed to the servants and the poor, of which there are many. No food is ever thrown out in this house. I have ordered that anything we do not eat off our table be taken to the beggars on the streets of the village, and anything in our larder which might go to spoil is distributed among the widows and orphans.

“By reducing our consumption, you alter the ratio of uneaten food which remains to be distributed to those without means. They may be poor, but they often will not accept charity. However, if they believe they are doing us a service by taking that which would otherwise spoil, they are happy to accept our gifts.”

“I did not realize,” Elizabeth said, feeling ashamed. “I only wanted to help.”

“I know you did. I shall speak to Mrs. Reynolds in the morning regarding the food orders. As for the other economies you have made, it would be best not to deprive the chandler of his usual order; he depends upon the large number of candles purchased to keep Pemberley lit. Please ask the maids to return the candelabras to this room and have them lit, so I might see to read my book,” he ordered grumpily .

S

Elizabeth felt frustrated with Mr. Darcy. Lacking any other occupation, she had thrown herself into the role she had been given as mistress of the house, had done everything she could to learn the ropes from Mrs. Reynolds, and taken initiatives to manage the household funds more economically. But did Mr. Darcy appreciate any of it? No! Instead, he scolded her and made complaints about the reduction to his comforts.

She supposed a gentleman such as him, having grown up with every comfort in life, was ill-used to suffering the loss of those physical comforts, even by a small measure. But it aggravated her to find her efforts so underappreciated. To what better use could she employ herself, if not these pursuits? Was she expected to spend her days visiting neighbors and entertaining, or engaging in idle needlework, as other ladies of fashion did?

She expressed her dissatisfaction to Mrs. Wilson, when she paid her promised call at Kenshire.

“I am certain Mr. Darcy will come to appreciate your efforts to economize when your neighbors have all retrenched and moved to smaller quarters in Bath or Manchester,” Mrs. Wilson reassured her. “Of course, we will still be here– my mother always taught me to live within my means, and Mr. Wilson abides by the same principles. But many families have come to ruin for paying no heed to the bills running up, failing to examine their spending until it is too late.”

Elizabeth nodded. She had seen that very thing happen to Netherfield Park’s owners, whose wasteful spending drove them to lease their home and remove to smaller quarters in Sidmouth, where they could give off the appearance of being fashionable people among the set of seaside resort tourists .

At home, Elizabeth had assisted Mrs. Hill with the household accounts once she turned eighteen. Her father saw she had a head for numbers and a knack for finding ways around her mother’s spendthrift habits– cutting down the grocery bills, using less firewood and candles, and reworking gowns and bonnets when her mother would have preferred to buy new ones.

Of course, she could not curb her mother entirely; all too often, Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters would return from Meryton, their arms laden with new hats and gloves and gowns cut in the latest fashion of expensive material. Mrs. Bennet insisted it was necessary for them to dress in the manner of the upper classes, in order to attract wealthy husbands.

But her careless spending often negated the savings Elizabeth had gleaned in other areas, frustrating her and making her wish her father would take his wife to task for it. However, Mr. Bennet, who had never been much good with numbers, was all too ready to relinquish his responsibility over the bookkeeping to his daughter, and to attend only to his books and overseeing the farms. She hoped the estate would not fall into ruin, now that she was no longer living at Longbourn.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a small boy, no bigger than three years of age, crawling on the floor by her feet. He wore a patch over one eye and had tied a scarf around his head. In one hand, he carried a wooden sword.

“Shh!” He whispered, putting a finger to his lips. “I’m hunting for pirate treasure.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said to him in a hushed voice. “I wish you success on your expedition, sir.”

He resumed his crawl, searching beneath the netted cover of the side table beside them.

“Edward,” his mother said, in a gentle voice, “what did I tell you about remaining in the nursery with Nanny when I have guests? ”

“But Henry says we gotta find the treasure!” The small boy protested, sticking his head back out from beneath the table cover.

Just then, a loud yelling erupted, preceding another boy, just slightly older than the other, who tore into the room at breakneck speed, brandishing his toy sword. He leapt onto the empty settee across from them, bouncing up and down. “Avast, ye villain! Get away from me buried treasure or I’ll make ye walk the plank!”

Elizabeth put her arms above her head in surrender. “I swear, upon my honor, I have not laid a finger upon your treasure.” She feigned fear and trembling, but a grin and a wink in Mrs. Wilson’s direction indicated she was enjoying this little pretend play.

“Then what be that there, wench?” The older boy pointed, jumping off the settee and running up to Elizabeth. He reached behind the small cushion next to Elizabeth’s arm and pulled out a tiny wooden box, fashioned to look like a pirate’s chest. He opened it to display a small hoard of pennies and a few farthings. “Proof ye tried to steal me treasure! Get up, wench, and walk the plank!”

“Henry,” his mother reprimanded. “Speak to Mrs. Darcy with respect, I beg you, or I shall put you in the corner.”

Henry sobered. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Darcy. It was all a bit of fun.”

“No harm done, Master Henry. Pray, let us continue our game,” Elizabeth said jovially. Affecting a humble expression, she threw herself to her knees. “Have mercy, Captain, and grant a poor soul clemency! I did not know the treasure here belonged to you, nor that it was buried so near. I beg you, do not make me walk the plank, for I cannot swim!”

The younger boy reemerged from his hiding place beneath the table. “Arr, make er walk the plank, Cap’n!”

“Methinks I’ve a better idea. Ready the cannons, bo’ssun. We’ll send ‘er down to ol’ Davy Jones’ locker– unless the sharks get to ‘er first. ”

“Not the cannons!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Edward looked quizzically at his brother. “What cannons? We haven’t got any.”

“Get the little ones from the toy soldier box,” Henry hissed.

“They’re not big enough for her.” He pointed a finger at Elizabeth.

“Get ‘em anyway!”

Edward began running in the direction of the nursery, but was blocked by the entrance of his nurse.

“There you both are!” Nanny said sternly, putting her hands on her hips. “My apologies, mistress, I do not know how they got away from me. I’ve been searching the whole house for them. Come along, Master Henry, Master Edward, it is time for your snack. Who would like to have some milk and biscuits?”

The youngsters cheered and followed their nurse happily to the kitchen for their treats, leaving Elizabeth and Mrs. Wilson in peace once more.

Mrs. Wilson gave a hearty laugh. “Pirates are their favorite game recently. We have been reading Robinson Crusoe at bedtime. I appreciate your forbearance, Mrs. Darcy.”

“It was my pleasure. I do not know when I was last so diverted. Your boys are darling.”

“They are rambunctious, to be sure, but I love them with all my heart. You will make a good mother one day, you know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. I hope I shall have the opportunity,” Elizabeth said softly.

“If the Lord wills it. Until then, you are welcome to entertain yourself at playtime anytime you wish. Goodness knows Nanny and I could both use a rest!” she chuckled. “Now, about your problem. You said you require an occupation. Have you considered charitable endeavors? ”

S

Mrs. Wilson’s suggestion held merit. While living at Longbourn, Elizabeth had often made clothing to give to the poor. When she considered such endeavors as part of her responsibility as a pillar of the community, she realized she had been remiss not to undertake some venture sooner. Making shirts would be an easy but meaningful task that would help to occupy her time.

Georgiana was happy to join her in this task, though she warned Elizabeth her skills with a needle were not so adept. Mrs. Younge declined altogether, saying she could be of no help to them, and employed herself with clipping fashions from a ladies’ magazine instead.

Mr. Darcy returned sometime later, having ridden out to visit one of his tenants. He smiled when he saw them diligently cutting and stitching together material, their projects spread out across a table in the drawing room.

“What are we making today, ladies? This looks to be an odd shape for a table cover,” he teased, pointing at the various pieces of fabric Georgiana had laid out before her.

“Shirts, brother.” Georgiana told him.

“Shirts! I see now,” he said, picking up a completed garment from the pile. “Yes, an excellent shirt. I will look very well in this one, do you not agree, Mrs. Darcy?”

He held the white shirt over his chest to demonstrate.

“Yes, very well, indeed!” Elizabeth said, with an air of levity.

“They are not for you, brother! They are for the poor,” Georgiana said, failing to recognize they were jesting.

“Oh no, these are far too fine to give to the poor!” Mr. Darcy said. “You had better give them all to me. I will make good use of them. ”

“No, sir!” Georgiana exclaimed indignantly. “For you have far too many fine shirts as it is.”

“Well, then I suppose it is just as well you have designated these for the poor, otherwise Perkins would not know what to do with them all, and I should have to buy a new chest of drawers. Excellent work, ladies. Carry on!” He returned the garment to Georgiana before heading to his study.

Elizabeth smiled. It pleased her that her efforts had not gone unrewarded.