Carrie Bebris - The Matters at Mansfield

Maria stood and stomped. “You are not listening! I—”

“Maria, I am the only remaining friend you have. Who but your Aunt Norris stepped forward to take you in when your own father would not? You must heed my counsel. Divorce is an evil to be avoided at all costs. Mr. Rushworth may be thick-witted, but he is the only chance you have at salvaging your respectability.” Mrs. Norris turned from the window and glanced at the Darcys with an almost startled expression. Apparently in her exultation over Mr. Rushworth’s arrival, she had forgotten their presence. “If you will excuse us, we have done speaking about Mr. Crawford.”

“We were just about to take leave,” Darcy said. They rose.

A knock on the door was quickly followed by the maid’s announcing the Rushworths’ arrival. Mother and son entered, the dowager responding to the Darcys’ presence with disdain.

“You are Mr. Crawford’s friend, are you not?”

Darcy offered his name and acknowledged the association. “Mr. Crawford was a recent acquaintance, a relation by marriage.” Elizabeth supposed that was as accurate a description of their connection as ought to be attempted. Darcy then introduced Elizabeth, who received a cool nod. Mr. Rushworth bowed, his expression warmer, though not by much.

“Maria, there is a matter of business we need to discuss,” said Mr. Rushworth. “Is there another room in which we could—”

“No, no!” Mrs. Norris interjected. “Stay right here. The Darcys were just departing.”

She instructed the maid to show them out, and dismissed them with scarcely a glance. “Now, Mrs. Rushworth, let us move to the drawing room while your son and my niece converse. May I offer you some tea? Cook prepared Bath cakes this morning, and I have a very fine wild gooseberry jam — my only remaining jar from last year, as I have not yet had time to put up any this season. I know a spot with superior berries—”

“We shall not stay long.”

Elizabeth and Darcy followed the maid to the front door. The servant opened it, startling a man on the other side who had been about to knock. He was a large, burly fellow, and had with him a large, burly dog. Elizabeth had never seen such an enormous mastiff, and was thankful the man held it on a leash.

The man and maid greeted each other. “And who is this?” the maid asked, nodding toward the animal.

“Wolfgang. Mrs. Norris told me to bring him round today.”

“Well, bring him round to the back door and we’ll get him familiar with the place.”

Elizabeth held her tongue until she and Darcy were beyond the gate. “I dislike that woman more with every meeting.”

“Which one?”

“Mrs. — ” She had been about to say “Norris,” but stopped herself. “All of them, actually. Maria reminds me too much of my youngest sister, and the two older matrons are at least as dictatorial as Lady Catherine.”

“Mrs. Norris and the dowager do seem to share some common traits with my aunt.”

“The three of them are insufferable — so certain that they know what is best for everybody else.” Though their power was confined to the domestic sphere, they wielded it with divine self-righteousness. “They could model for a portrait of the Fates.”

“Mrs. Norris spinning the thread, Mrs. Rushworth measuring it, and Lady Catherine cutting it off?”

“A sanctimonious triumvirate that rules through intimidation.” She took his arm to steady herself as she negotiated another muddy patch of road.

“Surely they do not intimidate you ? Why, you have been standing up to my aunt since before we were engaged, and after a few more years as mistress of Pemberley I fully expect you will be as capable as they of commanding everybody around you.”

She halted abruptly. “Are you quite serious?” Images of herself ten, fifteen years into the future flashed in her mind. She saw herself arranging a betrothal for Lily-Anne without her knowledge, manipulating her neighbors, lecturing her guests. She did not like what she saw. Did Darcy truly think her capable of such behavior? “No one knows what is best for everybody else, including me,” she said. “And I do not want to become the sort of person who thinks she does.”

“I did but jest,” he said. “I could never have married you if I thought you inclined to my aunt’s propensities. One Lady Catherine in our family is more than enough.”

They reached the inn and elected to partake of an early dinner. They were startled when their server appeared.

“Meg? Whatever are you doing?”

“One of the girls quit after Lady Catherine yelled at her again, and I have taken her job. I told you I would find a means of supporting myself.”

“But — do you want to work as a servant?”

“I worked at an inn before my marriage; I can work in one again.”

Within ten minutes, another pair of patrons had taken a table in the dining room: Mr. Rushworth and his mother. Meg greeted them with a smile. Mr. Rushworth returned it with a polite nod. The dowager scowled.

“Welcome,” Meg said. “Have you dined at the Ox and Bull before?”

“On a few occasions,” Mr. Rushworth replied. “Though when last we were here, we did not linger to eat.”

“Had places to be, did you?”

“Yes, we were on our way to London.”

“Well, I am glad you have returned. What can I bring you?”

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. Had Mr. Rushworth gone to London to purchase a pistol after his discussion with Henry Crawford? He could not have returned quickly enough to have killed Mr. Crawford that night, but Mr. Crawford had been missing for days before his discovery — perhaps the murder had not taken place on the evening of his disappearance, but some time later.

On the other hand, perhaps Mr. Rushworth had been far to the south when the murder occurred.

Darcy answered her unspoken question in muted tones shielded from the Rushworths’ hearing by Meg’s cheerful chatter. “We can probably verify how long he was in London. If it was any length of time, he likely would have been seen at one of his clubs. Or perhaps he filed court papers related to the crim con trial. I will ask Mr. Harper to make some enquiries.”

Elizabeth knew their solicitor could be relied upon to conduct his investigation discreetly.

They finished their meal and headed for their chamber. As they reached the base of the stairs, the front door opened. An old man with a cane shuffled in, followed by his sullen son.

“Why, Mr. Darcy — it is Mr. Darcy, is it not? — how good to see you again.”

Lord Sennex had arrived.

Lady Catherine gripped the top of the chair back, too impatient to sit down. “Whatever is taking his lordship so long?”

“Doubtless he requires more time than you or I to cope with the stairs,” Darcy replied. “I am sure he will be down as soon as he is able.”

The only room available for Lord Sennex’s use had been the upper-level chamber vacated by Mr. Lautus some days ago. That gentleman apparently had grown so weary of the Crawford — de Bourgh entourage occupying all the attention of the Bull’s employees that he had departed without so much as informing his host of his intention of never returning. Darcy was beginning to wish he could flee the inn himself. He had trouble tolerating his aunt for more than a se’nnight when he had all of Pemberley or Rosings in which to lose himself; the inn’s close quarters were becoming closer with each passing day.