Page 61 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

We entered the house from the stables, intending to go directly to our rooms to change and refresh ourselves when, in the hall, we came upon Mr. and Miss Crawley, together with Admiral and Mrs. Crawley.

“Miss Crawley!” The young lady was standing rather disconsolately, while her father was being assisted into a bath chair by her brother. Georgiana immediately took her hands. “Did you suffer terribly in the storm?”

“Oh, Miss Darcy, a great crash of lightning hit the house and tore off half the roof! It is quite uninhabitable. Mr. Darcy was ever so kind as to invite the Admiral to come to Pemberley.”

Two outdoorsmen were unloading the carriage and baggage, but, because of the mud on their boots, were unable to carry the baggage upstairs. I could see neither Mr. Darcy nor Fitzwilliam. Likely, they were organising men to return to the Crawleys’ house with tarpaulins to secure the roof.

“Would you know, Miss Crawley,” I asked, “if Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, is seeing to your rooms?”

“We have only this moment arrived,” Miss Crawley replied, wringing her hands. “Oh, I am in such a dither—my gowns are likely ruined!”

I saw Jacob, the footman, come in from the direction of the kitchens. “Is Mrs. Bennet or Mrs. Reynolds in the kitchen, Jacob? We need to arrange rooms for the Crawleys and have them heated. The roof of their house has collapsed—they must be both damp and weary.”

There was no time to discover either Mama’s or Mrs. Reynolds’s whereabouts, for both Mrs. Crawley and her daughter were on the verge of hysteria.

“Jacob, there will be maids upstairs seeing to the rugs. Please have them open the guest rooms in the West Wing, and have fires lit. We shall settle our guests in the drawing room until their chambers are ready.”

Jacob nodded and quickly climbed the stairs. He collected two maids who had come to gawk at the hubbub in the hall and sent them away to the West Wing.

“Georgiana, please take Mrs. and Miss Crawley to the drawing room. If Mr. Collins is still there, the fire will have been well stoked. I shall bring tea from the kitchen.” I turned to Mr. Crawley, who seemed to be in shock. “Mr. Crawley, could you take the Admiral to the drawing room? My apologies, but with the clearing up after the storm, we have too few footmen to assist you.”

“C—certainly, Miss Elizabeth. It is I who must apologise. We have had such a dreadful night, and the Admiral is quite exhausted by all the bother. Fortunately, he occupies a room on a lower floor and was not affected by the rain.”

I was about to proceed to the kitchen when I thought to collect the used tea tray and ask whether Georgiana required further assistance. On entering the room I discovered an impasse. Miss de Bourgh and Mr. Collins were occupying the seats closest to the fire, while Lady de Bourgh sat imperiously in a large wing-back chair, viewing the Crawleys with disdain. Poor Georgiana, caught between caring for her guests and not wishing to upset her aunt.

I had no such concern after both she and Mr. Collins had so insulted me earlier in the day. Mr. Collins was nursing a glass of Mr. Darcy’s brandy. Without any by-your-leave, I took it from his hands.

“Mr. Collins, it is too early for spirits, and certainly you should not serve yourself without your host’s attendance. Your chair, sir, is required by the Admiral who has suffered grievously from the storm.”

He looked affronted—I did not care. “Mr. Collins, you will remove yourself immediately, before I have the outdoors men throw you down the steps!”

“Cousin Elizabeth, you cannot talk to your betrothed in such a manner!”

“Mr. Collins, you are not my betrothed. Indeed, you are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.” I turned to Mr. Crawley. “Sir, can you remove this man—he purports to be a clergyman, but possesses not one ounce of Christian charity.”

Immediately, Mr. Crawley took Mr. Collins’s arm and bodily pulled him from the chair, depositing him in another by the window. I had never seen a man so pleased with himself. Georgiana covered her mouth, she was snickering—oh, what a treat!

“Miss de Bourgh, if you would, please move to the settee. It is warm enough with your shawls. Mrs. Crawley is quite chilled, having spent the night huddled below stairs with rain leaking into her house.”

Gently, Georgiana took her cousin’s arm, then sat beside her, arranging her shawls on her shoulders. The lady looked up, giving me a venomous look, so different from the pale, weak creature I had thought her to be. Did she truly believe that Fitzwilliam would offer for her? That I stood in her way? Unconsciously I glanced at Lady Catherine who had not said a word.

‘Oh, Lizzy, Lady Catherine and Anne are certainly related—their expressions are exactly the same.

Not now, Kitty.

‘I believe I would not wish to marry Mr. Collins, even though he is a clergyman,’ said Mary solemnly. ‘I had not thought that a man of the cloth could be both so ridiculous and so unprincipled.’

I gathered up the tea tray and left the room to return to the kitchen, where I discovered that Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Abernathy were in the barn supervising the placing of the great crocks and pots of stew onto carts for distribution to the families of the estate. Each pot was wrapped in straw, both to insulate and to prevent breakage.

Two kitchen maids were guarding the ovens. I left them to their work, quickly setting a large tray with cups and filling two urns with boiling water, the kettle in the drawing room having been let run dry. I found a cake basket in the pantry and filled it with sweet biscuits. I was struggling across the hall—the tray was over-heavy—when Fitzwilliam came from the corridor leading to the stables.

“Elizabeth, you silly, silly girl! You should not be carrying such a heavy tray; it will do your shoulder no good, no good at all!”

Gratefully, I let him take the tray from me. Indeed, my shoulder had begun to ache—I hoped I had not done it any injury. “The whole house is busy, Fitzwilliam. Jacob is upstairs readying chambers for the Crawleys—I would not normally have a footman do so, but at least he is assisted by two housemaids—and the others are carrying stew to the carts. The ladies of the household are with them in the barn.”

“Elizabeth, you have become an indoors maid!” He laughed, the tray rattled. “I have never been one myself. Come, you lead the way as Mrs. Reynolds does, and I shall follow your skirts. Though I must say, I have never seen a maid dressed in a riding habit—is this the new Darcy livery?”

Sweet man.