A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

Darcy strode into the library, leaving the door open to safeguard Elizabeth’s reputation, though he couldn’t say the thought of closeting them in didn’t pass through his mind. She looked up at him and smiled and he reminded himself that her smile meant nothing, weary with the reiteration of that internal mantra. She sat before a table, surprising him with the copious looking notes arranged in front of her. No wonder she proceeded with such efficiency.

“I see you have come prepared,” he said, bowing before taking a seat across from her.

“Preparedness, I believe, leads to more fruitful results.”

“Undoubtedly,” he said. “What conclusions have your preparations led you to?” Aside from that you would be the perfect mistress of Pemberly? He frowned, trying to push that thought from his mind.

“We have several issues to discuss,” Elizabeth said, looking down at her notes. “First, there is the disparity between the higher wage we’re paying the new servants and the lower one being given those who loyally remained.”

“Paying all of the servants the new wage would be costly,” Darcy said, though he could see the fairness of it.

“I believe
Miss de Bourgh can afford it,” Elizabeth said, raising amused eyes from her pages.

Darcy nodded. “She can.”

“I also believe it would be only fair to make the raise in pay we’d be giving those who didn’t leave effective as of the day
Miss de Bourgh took over the estate.”

Darcy nodded again.

“Good,” Elizabeth said. She set aside several sheets. He could see they contained the names of various servants. “Then there is the issue of those who have returned, seeking their old positions.”

“Returned?” Darcy asked.

“A few of those who left have returned, looking quite sheepish, I might add.”

“And you believe we should hire them back?”

“I do,” Elizabeth said.

Darcy frowned. He wasn’t sure. They’d shown disloyalty.

“Everyone was leaving,” she said. “For many, handing them a large sum of money is nearly like plying them with drink. It obviously went to their heads and they followed along with the rest. I wouldn’t punish them for a momentary lapse in judgement.”

“I may.”

“Then you and I differ on that,” she said, a challenging spark in her eyes. “We need experienced staff who know how to conduct themselves at Rosings. Those who wish to return represent the surest source of such men and women.”

She was correct there. He noted that she’d left out that salient point until she’d engaged him in an argument. Had she done it in order to win? As much as he enjoyed debating her, there was little point in drawing out the issue now that he was in agreement with her. Still, the defectors should suffer some penalty. “They shall be under a year’s probation in which they can be let go without reason.”

“Isn’t that the life of every servant?” she asked, amusement leaving her.

“I suppose that depends on the household,” he said.

“I take it, then, that is not how you conduct your estate?”

“I would never cast someone out without reason, or without some means of ready currency to help them find their way.” His mind flashed to Wickham. He hadn’t even sent that reprobate away empty handed. If anyone deserved to be left desolate, George Wickham did.

Perhaps Elizabeth’s mind traveled to a similar place, for she abruptly dropped her gaze to her papers once more. “I feel that those who have returned should receive the higher wage as well, but should only receive it from the day they are reinstated, not from the moment
Miss de Bourgh became mistress.”

“I would see them suffer a bit more for their foolish abandonment of their posts, but I will defer to you on this.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I believe it will be for the best, so that everyone can integrate peaceably. We don’t really want to employ people who harbor resentment.”

“True.”

“That brings us to the number of additional staff needed,” she said. “I don’t believe we should return Rosings to the level Lady Catherine kept it until Miss de Bourgh says that’s what she wants. Footmen are expensive.”

“I believe
Miss de Bourgh can afford it,
” he said, tossing her earlier words back at her.

“Because she can afford it, doesn’t mean she will want it.”

“Not want it? Why wouldn’t she want to live in luxury?” Darcy asked. Was she arguing for the sake of it again, or could she possibly be serious?

“Not everyone considers luxury that important,” she said. She flushed, perhaps realizing that her statement could be taken as reference to her refusing his proposal.

“Most people do. Most people would sacrifice many non-material things for living in greater luxury,” he said. “You are the only exception I know.”

Though he wished to say more, to expound on her virtues, that was the closest he dared come to mentioning his proposal. He took in the conflict on her face. Was she regretting her decision? Had living in Rosings, even in the state it was in, accustomed her to luxury? Was she about to say she’d changed her mind and would be happy to marry for money? If she did, would she still be the Elizabeth he loved? He leaned forward, both longing for and dreading the words.

“You say I am the only person you know of who places luxury below honor?” she said, her tone low and hard. “I tell you now, sir, I know at least two others.”

He looked at her questioningly. Those were not the words he’d expected from her.

“The first is yourself,” she said it almost as if the knowledge offended her. “The extent of Miss de Bough’s wealth has been impressed upon me. If you value the material more than ethereal concepts such as honor and love, why haven’t you wed her?”

“Touché,” he said, not bothering to argue that he didn’t need any more wealth than he had. It would sound like a boast, and they both knew that wasn’t the reason he didn’t wed Anne. “And the second?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed farther. “My sister Jane. She would not marry simply for wealth.”

Ah, the source of her sudden anger. “So you say,” he countered.

“Are you doubting my judgment or my honesty?” she asked in a suddenly honeyed tone.

Although she said it sweetly, the steely look never left her eyes. Darcy knew he’d landed himself in a hole now, for he couldn’t avoid answering her. “Judgment,” he said decisively. He could hardly call her a liar.

“So you believe me to have misjudged my own sister?”

How had he gotten himself into this corner? “I do.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “I observed her closely. I did not see signs of true attachment. I believe she would accept an offer from Bingley for the good of you all, setting her own happiness aside. What I did was as good for her as for him.”

Elizabeth took several deep breaths. He was very aware that she was struggling not to unleash her temper. He was also very aware that he needed to somehow keep his eyes on hers, not drop them to take in what her deep inhalations were doing to her décolletage. Sadly, he knew she would never appreciate the nearly inhuman effort it cost him.

“Do you know what I believe?” she asked. “I believe you prefer to think my judgment was false rather than admit yours was. You, the great Mr. Darcy, a man much too good to have set foot in Hertfordshire in the first place, could not possibly have been wrong.” She glared at him. “I admit I erred in judging you and Mr. Wickham, but you erred in your judgment of me. Neither of us has a perfect record. I knew Mr. Wickham for a few months. I’ve known Jane my entire life. She loved Mr. Bingley. You owe it to the happiness of both of them to set him straight on that.”

“No.”

“No?” she bit out.

Darcy frowned. He wished he didn’t have to disagree with her on something she obviously felt so strongly about, but in justice to both Bingley and Elizabeth’s sister he had to stand his ground. “If I go to Bingley and tell him that I believe your sister truly loved him, there are two possibilities. The first is that Bingley is so easily influenced by me that he will act on what I say, as he did when I advised him against wedding her. If that is the case and I now tell him that your sister loved him, it will be almost as good as telling him to marry her. He will act, not out of love but out of obedience. Would you want that?”

“No,” she said. “Yet you cannot convince me that you think Mr. Bingley would marry someone because you told him to.”

“Not even if he was almost in love with her, and she had good reason to expect his proposal?” Darcy shook his head. “I’ve seen him in love many times, and it never lasts.” He held her eyes until she looked down.

“You can’t have known that would be the case in this instance,” she said. He was relieved that her voice was softer, her anger dimmed.

“Let us look at the other alternative,” he said, pressing his advantage. “That Bingley never loved your sister, even if she did love him. However much he was attracted to her, he didn’t love her very much then and doesn’t love her now. Bingley is very obliging, but he is quite capable of acting on his own. How much could he love her if he’s never made an attempt to see her after all these months?”

“He loved her last November,” Elizabeth said.

“If he still loves her, it is the most tepid love I’ve ever seen. He could easily return to Netherfield. My comments should not have carried that much weight.”

She raised unreadable eyes to his. “Thank you for clarifying your actions.”

Darcy scrutinized her, unsure how to respond.

“I believe we’re in agreement about everything except how many additional servants to send for from London,” Elizabeth said, her tone businesslike. She shuffled through her papers. “As I see it, the fair thing to do would be for you to send for two thirds of the servants required to bring the staff back to what Lady Catherine had. We will then wait to see if
Miss de Bourgh requires more. I believe this is the correct way to bridge our difference of opinion. It is not just Rosings and Miss de Bourgh I consider here, for she can hire in more servants at a later date. I’m also taking into account uprooting people’s lives to come for a position that may be deemed unnecessary in a short time.”

Darcy nodded, feeling bereft. Elizabeth hadn’t seemed this withdrawn from him since he’d given her his letter.

“Here is a list of what would be needed to restore what Lady Catherine had.” She handed him a sheet from her notes. “I will trust you to adhere to our two thirds agreement.”

He took it without looking at it.

Elizabeth stood. “I bid you good day, Mr. Darcy.”

Before he could rise to bow to her, she was gone. It was some time before Darcy stood. He folded the paper Elizabeth had given him and tucked it into his coat. He departed the now silent library to go about his day, feeling disheartened.

That evening, for the first time since his arrival, Darcy dreaded dinner. He had no idea what his reception from Elizabeth would be. As he dressed for the meal, he considered again that he was lingering in Kent for too long. Yet, with Anne still ill and the running of Rosings’ holdings still in transition, he felt it was necessary for him to stay. All of his Fitzwilliam relatives were hovering over the earl’s bedside, even though word had come that he was awake some of the time and eating soup. Darcy could not pass the responsibility of assisting Anne to someone else, because there was no one else.

Nor did he wish to leave things as they stood between him and Elizabeth. Not that he was quite sure how they stood. She hadn’t stormed from the library, but he was sure she still didn’t agree with him.

Darcy descended, walking slowly to the parlor the ladies favored. As he suspected, it contained Elizabeth and Mrs. Allen but not Miss Kitty Bennet, who’d taken to dining with Anne in her room to keep her company. Both women stood when he entered, dropping curtsies. He bowed, holding out his arm to Mrs. Allen.

“Mr. Darcy, punctual as always,” Mrs. Allen said.

Darcy nodded to her without giving a verbal reply. He escorted her down the hall to the dining room, Elizabeth trailing behind.

There were some new footmen now, though Darcy waved the young man on his side of the table back and helped Mrs. Allen with her chair himself. He took his seat opposite Elizabeth, looking across the table at her with mild apprehension. If she was vexed with him, hopefully she had more grace than to show it in so public a place as the dining room.

Elizabeth was not glaring across the table at him as he’d feared. Nor was she even seated, or turned toward him. Darcy followed her gaze.

Anne stood in the doorway, Miss Kitty behind her. The new mistress of Rosings was too thin and too pale. She seemed to hesitate on the verge of stepping into the room, Kitty Bennet hovering at her shoulder. Darcy stood, aiming a bow in their direction.

“Anne, dear,” Mrs. Allen said, jumping up and hurrying across the room. She took Anne’s hands in her own. “It’s so wonderful to see you. Do come dine with us.”

Mrs. Allen dragged her cousin across the room and Darcy moved to assist Anne with her chair, once again waving off the nervous looking young footman. By the time he had her properly settled, the other ladies were seated. Darcy followed suit. A maid hurried forward with a place setting for Anne and another for Miss Kitty, who seated herself beside Elizabeth.