The Heart of Marriage Chapter 2

Before the argument could continue, Mrs. Darcy walked into the sitting room with her maid, Higgins in tow. She ignored her sisters by the windows and frantically searched the small writing desk closer to the doors. After pulling out drawer after drawer, she sighed.

“The list is not here. Why is it not here?” Mrs. Darcy asked no one in particular, then turned around to retrace her movements out loud. “I distinctly recall leaving the list of preparations I wrote last evening here on the desk when we retired.”

Higgins took a step forward and offered to help search for the list.

“Thank you, Higgins, but I fear it is lost.” Mrs. Darcy sighed as she ran her hand over the burgeoning bump in her midsection, just beginning to force her maid to loosen her stays to accommodate her growing abdomen. Mrs. Darcy then looked at her maid with an expression of sudden realization. “Perhaps I brought it with me. Did you happen to see the list this morning when you came in to help me dress?”

Higgins shook her head. “No, ma’am. I did not see it this morning.”

Lydia Bennet looked at her elder sisters and then at Mrs. Darcy before offering a solution. “Perhaps Mr. Darcy has seen it?”

But her sister, Mrs. Darcy, quickly shot down Lydia’s idea. “I do not think Mr. Darcy would have any interest in the list of tasks to prepare for the Yuletide Ball,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“So we are holding the ball then?” Mary said, from the corner, attracting Elizabeth’s attention to a new direction.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy and I discussed it and while we are terribly sad to hear of the loss of Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth Darcy stated, managing a meager expression of sadness, “the middle of December is a suitable time to welcome our neighbors and local gentry.”

Kitty wrinkled her nose at the sound of how official the ball sounded. “I suppose that will mean there will be no shortage of dance partners,” she commented.

“A dance master!” Mrs. Darcy exclaimed, turning back to the desk to add it to the list, only to realize once more that the list was gone. “Oh, I need to remember that one! We need a dance master to come to Pemberley.”

Elizabeth Darcy scowled at the unhelpful desk and turned to her maid, rethinking on Lydia’s idea about asking her husband. The entire family had enjoyed the sitting room after dinner the previous evening. Even the Bingleys had stayed. In small groupings, the whole family in residence at Pemberley had laughed and talked, while a few played cards. The two who had not been able to join were Dr. Matthews, recuperating from his twisted ankle when he arrived two weeks ago, and her father, Mr. Bennet, who still recovered from his injuries from the fire last summer. It had been a time of relaxation they needed in light of recent events.

Lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth Darcy informed her maid that she would find her husband.

All three unmarried Bennet sisters sat speechless as their elder sister left without another word to them. After a few moments, Lydia grew bored with Mary and Kitty turning back to their activities, while she held none.

“I know where the list of tasks went,” Lydia said, making expressions of shock in the window pane to amuse herself.

“Why didn’t you tell our sister?” Mary asked.

“Who took the list?” Kitty asked.

Lydia waited until both of her sisters began to grow restless with their ignorance. In a grand dramatic fashion, she turned around and shared her intelligence. “Mama took it. I saw her this morning. Before Lizzie came down.”

Kitty rolled her eyes, and Mary again demanded an answer.

“Why didn’t you tell Lizzie? You know we aren’t supposed to upset her. It’s bad for the baby,” Mary warned.

Lydia began to take a walk around the empty sofa in the grand sitting room that had ceilings painted with an elegant fresco and walls taller than the second story back at Longbourn, their home in Hertfordshire before it burned in a fire over the summer.

“Because,” Lydia reasoned, squinting to see if she could make sense of what two cherubs were fighting over in the east corner of the room. “if there is a list, it means it will be shared. I don’t wish to do more work, do you?” she asked, rhetorically.

The double doors to the sitting room opened and the footman, who stood wearing an appropriate black armband, announced, “Her Ladyship, The Countess of Matlock.”

The Countess of Matlock entered the room with a look of disappointment on her face and stood tall and erect. Her face bore a deep crease between her eyebrows. She wore a dark black gown cut low around her neck, but without a veil.

“You ladies did not even make a decent attempt to hide. Did you forget that you were to meet me on the third story, east wing, this morning?” Lady Matlock asked as all three of the maiden sisters of her hostess exchanged sheepish expressions of guilt. “I hadn’t thought so.” Lady Matlock’s mouth thinned and her eyebrows drew together at the sight of the three Bennet sisters lacking any excuse or explanation.

“How are we supposed to concentrate on the inventory when we are to be mourning Lady Catherine de Bourgh?” Lydia asked, sweetly. But Lady Matlock was not fooled.

“That is precisely why we are working in the east wing today, ladies,” Lady Matlock explained, as she shepherded the Bennet sisters out of the sitting room, instructing them to leave their items there for the maids to return to their rooms. “I discovered a trove of gifts from the de Bourghs over the years, and I believe inventorying them first is the best way to honor my late sister-in-law. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy may wish to give some of the items to their cousin, Anne.”

Experienced enough to know that complaining about work only brought more work, Kitty quietly elbowed Lydia on their way up the six flights of stairs it would take to get to the third floor since the first four floors of Pemberley were doubled in height.

“If we are quiet, she will only have us work until luncheon,” Kitty whispered.

“Yeah, but by then, Lizzie will know Mama has the list, and we’ll be writing invitations all afternoon,” Lydia said, sulking.

Mary passed them on the steps and refrained from telling both of them how ungrateful they sounded. “At least with your blacks, you won’t have to worry about spilling ink and ruining your skirts,” she said, flippantly, and then hurried her pace to just behind Lady Matlock. As the eldest sister yet to be married, Mary began to take her precedence more seriously.

“But my hand will still cramp,” Lydia whined, as she was left behind at her slower pace as Kitty hurried to stay closer to the Countess.