The footman’s tight collar worked uncomfortably. “The library is in some disarray, Colonel.”
Richard swore under his breath. Darcy’s meticulously ordered library! Lady Catherine had salt indeed to meddle with such precision. “Very well, I shall go to her desk in the servant’s quarters! Has my aunt come down yet this morning?”
The footman’s gaze assumed the glassiness accustomed to one of his station when attempting not to voice that which might be unpleasant to his superior’s ears. “No, Colonel,” was the simple reply.
Richard narrowed his eyes. “I see. Thank you, young man, you have been most helpful. What was your name?”
“O’Donnell, sir.”
“Just so! I’d no idea Darcy brought on Irish.”
The young man’s fair cheeks reddened. “My mother served in the kitchens during the days of Mr George Darcy—before her marriage,” the young man supplied. “It was her application that persuaded Mr Hodges and Mrs Reynolds to bring me on last year, and Mr Darcy gave his approval.”
“Well,” Richard nodded, his mind already turning to the conversation with Mrs Reynolds, “I trust you bring no papist anarchy or sedition with you. Welcome to Pemberley, young man.”
The embarrassed flush deepened over the lad’s face, but he made answer respectfully. “Thank you, Colonel.”
Richard strode impatiently away, a jerkiness to his strides which always reemerged whenever he assumed command in battle. A cautious look into the library as he passed confirmed his fears. Four maids and two footmen had the entirety of the high shelves emptied, and now the fine books that had been their master’s pride dominated the centre of the room in a haphazard stack. “Insupportable!”would have been Darcy’s sedate exclamation, but Richard’s mind filled with more colourful oaths.
The drawing room seemed in scarcely less a state of disorder. Another bevy of household staff fluttered about with great swaths of drapery fabric and hand-worked cushions. All the furniture had been reordered, and some of it he did not even recognise. A low breath left him and he stood motionless, his mind awhir—his practiced response to impossible scenarios. Lady Catherine must be stopped, buthow? Richard growled and nearly ran down the stairs to the housekeeper’s domain.
“Mrs Reynolds!” he snapped—perhaps a bit too harshly, for the woman nearly leapt from her starched dress.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam! Sir, forgive me, I was not notified that you had returned!”
Richard softened somewhat. “So I see. Mrs Reynolds, what the devil is happening around here? I see little short of chaos when I walk about! No one at their posts, the library torn up, the drawing room in shambles, and Miss Darcy locking herself within her rooms! Tell me everything at once before I must confront my aunt.”
Mrs Reynolds looked all abashed, but she made to clarify matters with her usual efficiency. “Lady Catherine found the previous arrangement of the house not to her standards. She has insisted that all be restored as it was in the days of Lady Anne.”
“Oh, botheration,” he hissed. “And I suppose she has spent these several days terrorising Miss Darcy, so that she is afraid to contradict our aunt?”
“To a degree, sir, but the rearranging of the quarters came after the Mistress withdrew. I believe Miss Darcy’s distress concerns Miss de Bourgh more principally.”
“Anne? What could possibly be offensive about Anne?”
“It is rather that Miss de Bourgh finds Miss Darcy’s company trying. The pianoforte troubles her head, she claims, and she insists that the windows of the house remain darkened in honour of the Master.”
“I had ordered all of those shrouds taken down. Does Anne intend for Pemberley to remain a tomb for Georgiana as well?”
“Miss de Bourgh feared a draught, I believe,” Mrs Reynolds smiled diplomatically. “We did not like to disobey your orders, sir, but we were uncertain of the proper authority in such a matter. Lady Catherine does not countenance disobedience. I am sorry, sir, but with Miss Darcy retired to her rooms, there was none to give any direction to the contrary.”
“And Miss Darcy likely never will,” grumbled Richard.
“Sir, I ought not to say as much—it is not my place, do you see.” Mrs Reynolds’ merry cheeks pinked uncomfortably as she hesitated.
“Do, please, speak out, Mrs Reynolds. I care little for the estate or the proper chain of authority at the moment. I quite depend upon you to advise me in any matters pertaining to my cousin at present, for I cannot know all that goes on.”
“Well, sir, it is only that she requested her bags to be packed for an immediate departure as soon as you had returned. She was rather vague as to the items she wished to take—I think she was not certain where she would be going.”
Richard pinched his lips thoughtfully between his teeth. “Nor have I any idea what she intended, but little wonder that she desired to go on to somewhere else. Where my aunt is concerned, sometimes retreat is the wisest alternative. The poor child, I had been so hopeful that she would no longer remain closed away! I ought not to have gone as I did.”
“Certainly, it is not your doing, sir. She did remain happily out and about for some days when you first went away.”
“You said she had begun to play the pianoforte? That would have been most promising! Such a pity that her cousin raised an objection. Has not Mrs Annesley’s return lent her some confidence?”
“Yes, sir, but there was some….”
“Do not tell me,” he groaned, “that she has suffered some turf dispute as well! What, has Mrs Jenkinson ruffled her feathers?”
