Twelvetide Chaos Read online

  Lydia snorted, “I heard that the last couple who experienced the strange happenings around Oakham Mount went mad. Aunt Phillips told the tale with such relish a few years ago.”

  “You should not give credence to all that Aunt Phillips tells us Lydia. I too have heard some of her outlandish tales.” Elizabeth replied.

  “Although it is not true that the couple went mad, for I met them just last week, the rumours are true as to there being something magical about Oakham Mount. I have collected a few eyewitness statements.”

  “So that’s what you are doing when you are talking with people in the ballroom, Mary! No wonder you never have anyone to dance with!” Lydia said.

  Mary ignored what Lydia had said, but all in the room felt awkward and nobody knew quite how to move the conversation forward. Emma looked into the fire and allowed her thoughts to wander. Yet again she remembered her father’s words after the wedding. Those cruel words that took away some of the joy of her wedding day. Nothing had prepared her to hear those words, though she had always known her father to be selfish and cantankerous. Mr Knightley must have noticed her distraction but other than taking her hand in his, he said nothing. They would do their talking in private. If Elizabeth was on her own, then Emma would have opened her heart to her friend, but Emma did not trust any of Elizabeth’s sisters. Not even Jane, who Elizabeth saw as being so sweet and was Elizabeth’s confidante. There was something in Jane that made Emma uncomfortable, but what it was she did not know. As for Elizabeth’s other sisters, Emma knew that they were all not to be trusted. Mary was overly judgemental and the youngest two, Catherine and Lydia, were nothing more than useless gossips. Gossips that would not think twice about spreading any piece of ‘news’ that they found out. It mattered not whether that news was true.

  “EMMA!” Elizabeth’s sharp call made Emma jump. “If you are not too tired then we thought that a walk into Meryton would be the thing for this afternoon.”

  “We are not too tired, we arrived in Stevenage two days ago and spent Christmas day quietly. I would be happy to walk into Meryton with you and your sisters.” Emma replied.

  “Oh, my Lord. I forgot to ask you about whether or not you were to be staying here.” Mrs Bennet exclaimed as she entered the parlour. “Organising this wedding has taken so much out of me, that I am forgetting important things. Please excuse my lapse in manners. There is no excuse.” Mrs Bennet would have rambled on apologising over and over.

  Emma interrupted her. “Mrs Bennet, thank you for your concern, but we are staying in Stevenage. Your offer and interest are very kind, yet we must decline your generous hospitality.”

  The relief on the matriarch’s face was clear, but her words were gracious. The group moved out of the parlour and back to the hallway, where there was a flurry of bonnets and pelisses. The moment the group of young women stepped out of the front door it was clear to Emma why they wished to walk to Meryton now. Three young men now joined the group that Emma could only presume to be some of the young ladies' betrotheds. She was proved correct as Elizabeth introduced the young men to her and Mr Knightley.

  Emma soon got bored listening to the conversation that Mr Darcy and Mr Knightley were soon engrossed in. What could be so interesting about crop yields and field rotations, Emma would never understand. Her intelligence and interests went in a completely different direction. She understood the concepts and the need for them, but she only gave scant mind to them as her father was the one who had seen to such tedious things at Hartfield.

  It was not until the group arrived at Meryton that Emma was able to move Elizabeth away from the group. She wished to talk about her father’s cruel words. Elizabeth was the only one who would understand. Elizabeth was the only one, other than her husband, who knew how her father had constantly tried to manipulate her into staying single. “Lizzy, I simply must talk to you.”

  “What is it, Emma? You look concerned.” Elizabeth replied. She looked around the marketplace. Fortunately, there was nobody who was within earshot, so she pulled Emma over to a bench and they sat down so as to be able to talk quietly and see if anyone approached.

  “Lizzy, you know how my father has over the past ten years, consistently tried to convince me that staying single was the best thing and that I should not even entertain the idea of getting married?”

  “Yes, I believe that you espoused that idea for a while.”

  “I did. It was much easier to say I would not get married when I did not know what it was to fall in love or to want to marry. We should have married back in the spring, but my father kept putting up this objection or that and we kept postponing in order to accommodate him. Eventually we realised we had to just go ahead and marry despite my father’s complaints. Yet what my father said the other day when we were married, was beyond distressing. He hates change, but his words were just cruel.” Emma’s tears flowed freely, and she could not carry on. Eventually she gained enough control to carry on, “Oh, Lizzy, he said ‘Emma, you have gone against my express wishes and married. I want to know nothing of your joys and your children. From this day on, you and I will be as strangers.”

  “What?!” Shock suffused Elizabeth’s face. How could a father be so cruel? What would make him say such a thing.

  “Knightley thinks that it was just the fact that my father hates change and that once we get back to Hartfield next week my father will have forgiven me, and that we will all live together as one big family. I am not so sure. He has been writing to Isabella a lot, and when she and John came down from London, they arrived much earlier than they needed to. They sat for hours whispering together. If it were not for John, and my nieces and nephews then I would have been very lonely indeed. My father has been withdrawing from me for months. I don’t know what to do. I fear that I shall find that Hartfield is no longer my home when I return.”

  Elizabeth grinned, “Wouldn’t that be as it should, though? Your sister will inherit Hartfield when your father passes. You and Knightley have Donwell Abbey to live in, do you not?”

  “If it were not for the fact that my father needs looking after, I would gladly live at Donwell. Yet I fear that Isabella would not be able to look after our father. She is too like him she has not my energy and she is not able to always do the things for him that I can.”

  “You have done your part for your father. If he chooses to replace you with your sister, then that is his choice.”

  Emma looked away. What Elizabeth had said made sense, yet her father’s words still stung. After all that she had done for him, it felt to Emma as if he only cared about allowing her to do so when he could control her every move. Everything had to be oriented around him, and now that she had taken a step that secured her own happiness, he did not want to even know her. How could that be? “I know that what you say is right, I just… I cannot quite understand how it is that my father thinks that we should be as strangers to him. I could live with Isabella taking over as mistress of Hartfield, but not this, not being a stranger to my own father. I love Knightley so much, but my father’s words have taken away a lot of the joy that I should feel in my union.”

  Elizabeth looked at Emma. Compassion was written over every feature. Yet Emma was sure that Elizabeth could not understand how much pain Emma felt over her father’s words. Knightley and Darcy came looking for the girls at that moment, and their private moment was over. “What have you done to my wife?” Knightley jokingly asked Elizabeth.

  “She has done nothing. I was simply telling her the vicious thing my father told me as we sat at the wedding breakfast.” Emma stammered through her tears. Knightley sat next to his wife and pulled her into his arms.

  “You know how your father hates change. He is simply reacting to the change that we forced on him.” Knightley gently soothed his wife. “If things are as you fear, then we can still walk over daily to see John and Isabella. We’ll see more of our nephews and niece.”

  “I know. I just don’t know how Father could say such a thing to me on the
day that should have been our day.”

  “Emma, Emma, Emma, he had very little attention that day, you were getting it all. He was as jealous of your attention as much as he was hating the change that has been forced. We will see how things sit when we go back to Hartfield. Now, please let’s enjoy our time with our friends.”

  Emma dried her tears and watched Elizabeth with Darcy. The two thought themselves to be unobserved, so Emma and her husband just watched. Love was written over every feature of the young couple standing in front of them. Their every move mirrored each other perfectly and they seemed to complete each other in a way that Emma and Knightley only wished that others observed in them. In society Elizabeth would sparkle and her husband would only benefit from his wife’s grace and charm. It was clear that these two were ready for their upcoming wedding.

  Three French Hens

  27th December

  “Bonjour” The cook said when Mrs Hill opened the door. “Je vousdrais parler avec Madame Bennet.”

  Mrs Hill looked at the woman at the door with a blank stare. “I do not understand you.”

  “Je viens de Monsieur d’Arcy” The strange woman said, hoping that would gain her entrance. Mrs Hill still looked confused but stepped aside and allowed the woman to enter Longbourn. She meekly followed Mrs Hill through to the morning room where Mrs Bennet sat awaiting the visitors that she would receive that day.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am, but there is a woman here to see you, I didn’t understand her so do not know her name.” At Mrs Bennet’s nod Mrs Hill motioned for the woman to enter.

  “Madame Bennet?” The woman said, “Je suis Madame Montpelier.” Mrs Bennet looked just as bleakly at the strange woman who continued on, “Je suis le cuisinier de Monsieur d’Arcy.”

  “I am sorry I do not speak French” Mrs Bennet finally stammered. It would be no use bringing in any of the rest of her family, as none of them spoke French either.

  “Je suis désolé, Je ne parle pas anglais” The two women lapsed into an uneasy silence. Neither one understood the other, and neither one willing to make any more efforts to bridge the gaps between them. It was not until Mr Darcy arrived fifteen minutes later that any real progress was made as he translated for them.

  “You realise that you have been called down to help out in my kitchen only for the next three days?” Mrs Bennet asked.

  “Yes, Madam, Monsieur d’Arcy was very clear in his letter that after the wedding I was to return to Pemberley.” The cook answered. Mrs Bennet asked several more questions before dismissing the cook to the kitchen, where she sat in a corner without being able to talk to a soul or make herself useful. Mrs Bennet’s cook, Mrs Grange did not speak French, nor did she like Mrs Bennet bringing in foreigners to aid her with the preparations. She had taken it as a gross insult, so did not even try to talk to this new interloper.

  It was midmorning when a new cook arrived in the kitchen. “Get out of my kitchen” was all that Mrs Grange said.

  The thick French accent was impossible to miss, but the English was flawless, “I am sorry, but Mrs Bennet has arranged for myself, Madame Montpelier, and another cook to aid yourself in the preparation for the wedding breakfast.” She explained quietly.

  “Well, you better be more use than that one over there. She has done nothing but sit in that chair since she arrived earlier. Must be mute or something. I can’t get her to talk.” Mrs Grange grumbled.

  Madame Montpelier did not understand what was being said but knew that it was her that was being talked about. Embarrassed she said “Je suis désolé, Je ne comprends pas.”

  Understanding and compassion came into the new cook’s face. “You madame, could not make her talk because you do not speak the same language.” With that she turned to the other cook and introduced herself as Mrs Fredericks. The two French cooks exchanged a quick detailing of their experience and soon they were chattering together like old friends.

  “Yes, yes. Now that we have established that, perhaps we can all work together? I have the evening meal to prepare as well as the preparations to make for the wedding breakfast.” Mrs Grange grumbled. “I have, of course, already made the wedding cake.”

  “Mrs Grange, you will never believe the news!” Nancy, the chambermaid burst in on the kitchen. Ordinarily Mrs Grange would have stopped to listen, but not today.

  “Nancy, do you not have work that you should be doing?”

  “I do, Mrs Grange. I just thought…”

  Mrs Grange held her hand up, “I don’t want to hear it. You know how much work there is to be done still, I think it best if you return to your work, I will hear your news tonight.”

  “Oh, but you will want to hear it now. Sarah was out for a walk and she saw Miss Lydia’s betrothed walking down the lane on the other side of the road, she thought nothing of it until he met with Mr Darcy’s sister. Apparently, they seemed to be very intimate if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I do not know what you mean and if you do not get back to work,” the threat in Mrs Grange’s voice was very real, but she knew that Nancy wouldn’t listen to any but Mrs Hill.

  Mrs Fredericks had translated the news to Madame Montpelier, who clutched her breast. “My God. Miss Georgiana is the apple of Monsieur d’Arcy’s eye. He’s virtually raised her. Monsieur Wickham is a bad man. This will kill Monsieur d’Arcy”

  When the maid heard the translation she just laughed. “It is true, I saw the two of them together on the lane outside of Longbourn. Just yards away from where Mr Darcy and Miss Elizabeth met to walk the lanes.”

  Mrs Hill came in at that moment, “Nancy, that is enough! Now get back to work. Otherwise you will find yourself out on your ear, for speaking ill of your betters.”

  “Mr Wickham is no better than us, he is only the son of a steward.” Nancy barely finished what she was saying before Mrs Hill’s palm connected with her cheek. Her shock was not enough to stop her.

  “You’re dismissed.” Mrs Hill would not have any servant speaking ill of their betters, no matter who they might be. It was a betrayal of the family that they worked for.

  “Please don’t do this Mrs Hill, not now, not at this time of year. It is not me but me mam that needs the food that me wages buy!” Nancy’s panic was genuine and the noise that she made was pitiable indeed. Madame Montpelier’s heart was touched by the plight of the young girl, but Mrs Hill stood firm with her decision to dismiss the girl. It was into this noisy situation that Mrs Bennet arrived in the kitchen with another woman. She was younger than the other two, and yet seemed to have a sadder look about her.

  “Mrs Hill, what is the meaning of all this? Do we not have enough to do without being distracted at this time?” Mrs Bennet’s efficiency was at its height and she would not have the servants embarrassing her.

  “I am sorry ma’am” Mrs Hill said, “This situation has just arisen I have had to dismiss Nancy, our chamber maid.”

  “It is alright ma’am, I am happy to fill in as a chamber maid as well as help in the kitchen, until a new chamber maid can be found.” The new younger cook offered.

  “Thank you, Mrs Michaels” Mrs Bennet said. Then she turned to the occupants of the kitchen and introduced Mrs Michaels, who spoke no French but was of French descent and her cooking skills had been gained from both her mother and from the French cook that she learnt under the cook at Matlock house.

  The kitchen was friendly. Once Mrs Bennet had finished instructing the new cooks, she left the kitchen. At first, they all worked together well, but the old saying that too many cooks spoil the broth proved to be too true, and soon the cooks were arguing between themselves.

  It had all begun when Madame Montpelier had turned on Mrs Michaels. “Madame, you are not really a true French cook, and by volunteering to be a chamber maid you are disgracing us. You will leave us with extra work all so that you could look better than us.”

  “How dare you?!” Mrs Michaels raged. “I worked my way up to this position from a simple scullery maid. You will find that I
will leave you no more work than you would otherwise do.”

  “I had not need to work my way up. My mother was the cook at Pemberley, and I was trained specifically to take her place, trained from childhood.” Madame Montpelier was obviously proud of her heritage, but Mrs Michaels felt the offence that had been intended, and the argument did not let up at all, especially when Mrs Michaels left the kitchen to finish the chamber maid’s duties. “See she leaves us with all the work. Two days before the wedding and one of our helpers is off playing the chamber maid.”

  “Now, now Madame” Mrs Grange said, “By doing the work of the chamber maid, Mrs Michaels has kept my scullery maid here to keep up with our washing up and do our running around. The loss of Nancy would be sorely felt in a house with so few servants.”

  “Why would you have so few servants that the loss of a single chamber maid should be so significant? This estate cannot bring in much money. Why did Monsieur d’Arcy bring me here? This kitchen is really nothing compared to the Pemberley kitchen.”

  “I don’t know exactly what Mr Bennet is worth today, it is been a while since the yearly income was spoken of in the village. However, I believe it is not above two or three thousand a year.”

  “That’s not much”

  “It is enough to pay us a nice wage, though there is not many of us.” Mrs Grange answered.

  “What of the daughters? What are their dowries? Will one of them inherit this Longbourn?”

  “No, I understand that Longbourn is entailed on a cousin of Mr Bennet’s.”

  “Nasty things entailments” Madame Montpelier said. “They rob women of security and of a home.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, and Mrs Bennet had more reason than most to worry about her daughters. Much of her hysterics are simply related to this entailment.” The gin that Mrs Grange accompanied her cooking with was beginning to loosen her tongue, which was dangerous with a few strange servants in the house. “Miss Jane and Miss Lydia, there’s something strange about them. They don’t seem to be able to keep up with their quick-witted sisters. Sometimes it is like they look right through you. I don’t know what it is.”