Chapter 28 Happy Was The Day

Barclay, Bevan, Bening and Tritton, in Lombard Street, began to empty as business was nearly finished for the day by the time the Darcy carriage rolled to a stop. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, as well as a maid from Darcy House at Mrs. Hathersage’s insistence, stepped into the busy heart of commerce. 

Elizabeth inhaled deeply. This close to her the home of the Gardiners made her calm. This part of London she knew well: Cheapside.

After restoring his beaver, Mr. Darcy tucked his hand into his pocket. “My apologies, I meant to give this to you earlier. My sister has written to you.”

Elizabeth nodded and tucked the letter into her reticule, completely unaffected by accepting a  letter from Mr. Darcy in broad daylight. Her betrothed already held a special license and she was of age, tomorrow they would wed and no amount of gossip today could change it.

Walking up the stone steps under a wooden sign of the same black eagle on Mr. Scudamore’s card, Elizabeth’s heart rate quickened. She had imagined the nerves would strike her tomorrow, or perhaps later in the evening, but something about signing her marriage contract and the secrecy of it all hastened her anxiety.

She faltered on the last step and both Mr. Darcy and the maid reached to steady her.

“If you are unwell,” Mr. Darcy started, searching her pale face for reassurance of his intended’s vigor.

Elizabeth’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment and she shook them both off. To further put Mr. Darcy at ease, she forced out a chuckle. 

“I am well, merely missed my footing. Let’s continue,” she urged, setting her chin high.

Two, heavy stone doors that felt as though they reached the sky if one stood close to them were opened by the footmen standing outside for such a purpose. Clerks dashed across the marble foyer carrying leather ledger books and cloth-bound manuscripts. Elizabeth blinked as she noticed one held an armful of what appeared to be scrolls.

“Last will and testaments or patents of nobility,” Mr. Darcy whispered as he followed her gaze.

Mr. Lamont Scudamore approached the Darcy party with his face alight with joy. The man’s teeth flashed brilliantly against his darker complexion, and he bowed to Elizabeth first, an expression of precedence she had not expected. But Mr. Darcy appeared unaffected and greeted the man directly after.

“Mr. Lamont!” He greeted, offering his hand.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam, you are to marry at last! May I congratulate you on your choice, sir? From what brief acquaintance I have enjoyed with Miss Bennet, she is charming and bright. She will make a splendid Mrs. Darcy!”

Despite the intended compliment, Elizabeth felt a feeling of dread growing in the pit of her stomach. 

“Mr. Darcy, you will join me with my meeting with Mr. Lamont will you not?” she asked, forcing herself to smile. She did not wish to insult Mr. Lamont, but she also suddenly felt uneasy about taking the meeting alone.

“I’m afraid I am meeting with his father, simultaneously. You did wish to reach your aunt and uncle’s for supper?” he reminded her, and Elizabeth inhaled deeply to steel her nerves.

They followed Mr. Lamont past the long wooden bar that served as cashier stations, and up a flight of stairs to the private offices and parlors above. When they reached the landing, a man Elizabeth assumed to be Mr. Lamont Scudamore’s father waited and Mr. Darcy then made the introduction.

It still felt odd to part ways and with the maid in tow, follow Mr. Lamont up another flight of stairs, and deeper into the back recesses of the building. She thought the most senior positions in the bank would take the offices on the higher floors, but then as her feet ached in her shoes, perhaps they saved the excess walking for the younger employees.

“This way, if you please,” Mr. Lamont said as he showed Elizabeth into a brightly decorated room that would pass as a parlor in any London town home, only the fabrics and decor appeared too fine even for Mayfair. 

As the maid from Darcy started to enter, Mr. Lamont blocked her path. “Is she to be your personal maid?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the woman.

“Er, no, Mrs. Hathersage merely suggested  . . .” Elizabeth trailed off as Mr. Lamont began to talk quietly to the maid, and then another young woman suddenly appeared and entered the room, leaving the Darcy maid out in the hallway. “I beg your pardon!” Elizabeth said, rising from the chair she had taken a seat in.

Mr. Lamont shut the door. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but may I introduce Miss Antoinette Chardin.”

Elizabeth nodded her head in response to the young woman curtsying before her, but then expected Mr. Lamont’s explanation.

“In what capacity, sir?” she asked, rather tired of the continuous surprises that followed an interaction with Mr. Lamont.

Mr. Lamont took a seat across from the future Mrs. Darcy in a tall, wingback chair, next to a leather folio thick with parchments. “If you will have her, as your lady’s maid. She interviewed with your Aunt Gardiner this morning for temperament, and spoke to Miss Mary Bennet about your preferences as Miss Jane Bennet was unavailable.”

“Yes, ma’am, I have put in an order for the next novel by Charlotte Dacre, as she now writes under Rosa Matilda, as I confirmed that Mr. Darcy does not own a copy,” Antoinette stated, going to explain more of the preferences that Elizabeth’s sister, Mary, imparted.

Elizabeth blushed at the mention of her favorite reading material, watching Mr. Lamont for any sign of disapproval. But either the man was unfamiliar with the author’s work or a master of schooling his features. She closed her eyes, entirely uncomfortable at how many tasks were decided, assigned, or compiled by others and she was not yet married to Mr. Darcy. Once she was, would it be even worse, she wondered?

“I mean no disrespect, Miss Chardin, and I applaud you for your diligence. But as we have only met and the selection of a lady’s maid is a very personal decision,” Elizabeth explained, stalling for how she would let the woman down, until a small flicker of disappointment passed over the young woman’s face and Elizabeth’s compassion won out. She would not dismiss the woman before evaluating her skills herself. “I-I am afraid I can only accept your service on a provisional, probationary basis,” Elizabeth finished.

Antoinette Chardin, who had cast her eyes to the ornate carpet boasting flecks of golden thread, gasped in shock when the expected dismissal did not come, but instead a provisional acceptance.

“Thank you, Ma’am, I am most eager to earn your trust and see to your comfort,” she explained, curtseying once more.

Mr. Lamont cleared his throat. “And as Miss Chardin has also been properly vetted and cleared by the board of trustees, and signed her own agreement of confidentiality, she can see to your needs and attend to your person in regards to any business for the privilege.”

Nervousness bubbled up in Elizabeth’s throat and a laugh she intended to be a quiet, small giggle ripped out as a loud, unbecoming gaffe. The sudden noise shocked the two others in the room, but when she began to laugh at herself in earnest, they promptly joined her in a polite fashion.

“You shall have to know, when I am intimidated, my courage always rises, often to laughter!” she managed, as tears welled in her eyes from the over-excitement. She dabbed them with her handkerchief, suddenly thinking she might resemble her mother’s hysterics, and the comparison sobered her sense of humor swiftly. “I fear I am joining a secret society,” she said, off-handed, as Mr. Lamont began to produce the documents for her signature. 

Shrewdly, Elizabeth checked over them to make certain they were the same documents she had read over a few days previous in her uncle’s office. Satisfied there was no chicanery afoot, she affixed her name to the bottom of each document, which Mr. Lamont then signed after her as the witness and pressed a seal of the bank’s familiar eagle. 

Inspecting the drying ink on the first page, Mr. Lamont finally exhaled a breath of relief. “In most ways, Miss Bennet, you have. And I am afraid the society will not include your husband.”

As Elizabeth finished her name the next document, the one that detailed the conditions and terms of her accounts at the bank, though specified no amounts, she asked again about that. “Now that I have signed, I must ask, why? That is most, irregular, is it not?” she asked, turning to her newly minted lady’s maid for support, but the woman with gray eyes and dark, brown hair pinned in two small curly, twists, one behind each ear. The woman exuded a professional, stern exterior, but gave her mistress the support she requested with a nod.

“Ah,” Mr. Lamont chuckled, as he signed the parchment after his client, following the same process as the first page. “I may now give you this for your review and once you hand it back to me, I will cast it into the fire behind me.”

Elizabeth accepted the folded piece of paper, stunned at the idea of such a waste. Why on earth would Mr. Lamont take the time to write something down only to cast it into the fire. She refused to open the missive as her hands shook, suddenly fearful her first instincts were correct and there was something entirely ill-gotten about these gains.

“I apologize, but Mr. Fitzwilliam explained you had concerns about the amount of the accounts for Mrs. Darcy’s personal discretion, and given the unprecedented circumstances of the passing of the Darcy Privilege, I received permission from the board for this one concession before your marriage tomorrow. Strictly speaking, these terms you have signed are meaningless until you are pronounced man and wife,” he explained, watching Miss Bennet relax as he explained.

“This board of trustees, who sits upon it? Who are the men I am to answer to that are not my husband?” Elizabeth demanded, still not opening the folded piece of paper as though such an act would cement her fate more than any of the signatures she had already penned.

“Most are men from the most ancient of noble families. I can tell you that you have already met one of them,” Mr. Lamont managed, as he still remained restricted in his disclosures until the wedding ceremony was completed.

Elizabeth loved a good puzzle and wished that her father was present to witness this great weaving of mystery and intrigue, but could not be. However, the clue was not remotely difficult to solve. “Lord Matlock.”

Mr. Lamont nodded as he nudged another piece of parchment forward for Miss Bennet to sign, though she still held the folded piece of paper. “It is tradition for the head male figure of Mrs. Darcy’s paternal family to be offered a courtesy place on the board of trustees. The late Mrs. Darcy’s father held such a place, and when a voting position unexpectedly fell open in 1789, he was offered the same. This passed to the current Lord Matlock.”

“Then I should like to request that my uncle, Edward Gardiner, be offered the same courtesy.”

Mr. Lamont blinked in consternation at her request, so Elizabeth repeated it. 

“I heard you, Miss Bennet, but such a request, the board has always been made of peers, which you will understand once you read the journals, which I’m afraid to say are not fully finished. But one volume will be delivered tomorrow to Darcy House at the end of the wedding breakfast.”

“The board does not approve of me,” she stated, suddenly realizing how unexpected Mr. Darcy’s choice was to his family. 

“Miss Bennet, if you please,” Mr. Lamont said gently, not the least bit exasperated but more encouraging. “I believe Mr. Fitzwilliam mentioned you have dinner plans?” he asked, checking the small timepiece he kept chained to his vest.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth carefully unfolded the piece of paper in her hand, deciding she was stalling for no good reason. After she was properly married, Mr. Lamont would become her private agent. While her conversations with the man frustrated her with their lack of disclosure, she never sensed the man to be untrustworthy. Quite the opposite, if she was fair in her evaluation, and he even found ways to reassure her misgivings within the limited parameters he was afforded.

As her eyes read the number with a single comma, she sighed in relief and began to laugh. The amount was exorbitant compared to the pin money her mother managed, and she had never seen such a large number outside of an estate ledger. When the amount matched the rumored annual income of Mr. Darcy, she wondered if the rumor began from Lady Catherine, herself, since she had anticipated her daughter Anne marrying her nephew.

“Mr. Lamont, this is an unexpected blessing, please do not think I am ungrateful, but I feel my Fitzwilliam was correct. Five generations of Darcy women buying gowns has clearly depleted the fund. I hardly see why so many men of great import must oversee this,” she stated, handing the piece of paper to him to cast into the fire. Shrugging, she set back about her business, signing her name at the bottom of two more pieces of parchment.

When she reached for the last one and dipped the quill into the ink for the final time, Mr. Lamont cleared his throat. 

“Miss Bennet, that amount was the monthly income from the trust at your disposal.”