Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, the tart plate is always empty when it returns to the kitchen!”
As Mrs. Thurston went back into the hall, Elizabeth heard her say in a loud whisper, “The Mistress is there as well!”
The process took the entire day, with but short breaks for meals, but Elizabeth felt it had been a day well spent. When the last servant left the housekeeper’s office at the end of the day, Elizabeth sat down with a sigh.
Then she straightened up. “Oh, Mrs. Reynolds, please forgive me; here is yours.” She reached into her skirt pocket and gave the housekeeper her own envelope, bearing Mrs. Reynolds’ name in Elizabeth’s hand.
“I thank you, Mrs. Darcy,” she replied, tucking the envelope into a skirt pocket.
“Mrs. Reynolds, whatever would we do without you?”
Embarrassed by praise, the older woman just shook her head. Then she said, “That companion of Miss Darcy’s is doing well, is she not?”
“She is; I am so grateful she is here.”
***
The next day, Mrs. Annesley came to Elizabeth with a grave face. “Mrs. Darcy, I believe I must speak with you on a matter of some urgency.”
“Mrs. Annesley, whatever can be the matter? Please, sit and tell me what troubles you.”
“Miss Darcy is spending time with a young man.”
“She is – what? But who? How is it possible?”
“I do not know who. For the past two days, I have found that when she is supposed to be resting, she is actually quietly leaving her room, making her way out into the garden, and sitting on a bench with a young man. At first, I thought perhaps he was just a gardener and she was asking for flowers, but her demeanor is that of a young lady with an admirer.”
Elizabeth was speechless.
Mrs. Annesley continued, “I think you may trust me on this; I have shepherded many young ladies into society, and I know the signs of romance very well.”
Gathering her thoughts and her skirts, Elizabeth said, “Let us speak with Mr. Darcy; he will know what to do.”
***
“She isWHAT?” Mr. Darcy was outraged.
“Who could it possibly be?” Elizabeth asked.
“Describe the man, if you would, Mrs. Annesley,” Mr. Darcy asked, voice tight.
“Well-featured, blond-haired, no beard or mustache. They seem quite well-known to one another. She made a creditable sketch of him this morning, though she thought I did not notice her pencil at work; I can show you her sketchbook, if you like.”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Annesley.”
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stared at one another with worried looks as Mrs. Annesley left the room. She returned just a few minutes later, sketchbook in hand.
Mr. Darcy had only to glance at the sketch to have his worst fears confirmed. “It is George Wickham.”
“Who?” Elizabeth asked. “I have never heard the name mentioned.”
“No, and if it were up to me, it wouldneverbe mentioned!” He ran his hands over his face, sighing. “He is the son of my father’s steward; he grew up here on the estate and yes, he has known my sister since she was born.”
“Might they not just be friends?” Elizabeth asked.
“But then why does she sneak out to see him?” Mrs. Annesley asked. “No, there is more to it than that, I promise you.”
“Bring her here; I will speak with her,” Mr. Darcy ordered.
