There was also the tenant Christmas feast to plan. Last December as Darcy toured her through the manor and first spoke of the holiday tradition for the Pemberley workers, Lizzy had briefly envisioned something grand. In the same way as the Summer Festival, she had wanted to reinstate the old customs with flair. Of course, those early plans had not taken into consideration the arrival of their first child. Not knowing how the birth might proceed, what her physical condition would be afterwards, nor when it would even occur, Lizzy decided it would be best to keep the event understated. Actually it was her husband who firmly declared that the dinner be a humble affair, allowing no room for argument, so Lizzy had no real choice.
Nevertheless, minimal or majestic, she wanted all to be perfect. Plus, it gave her something else to fret about besides missing her husband. Before the week was out the menu was determined, the necessary cleaning of the ballroom and formal dining room was begun, the date was set for a week before Christmas, a group of minstrels from Matlock was reserved, and the list of invitees was written with invitations ordered. A detailed timetable was itemized for the following three months so all issues would be handled with or without the Mistress's input.
In between Christmas scheming Lizzy attended to household duties with a vengeance. Mr. Keith consulted her on everything although Lizzy knew he did not have to. She spent large quantities of time at Darcy's desk usually for no real purpose other than for the comfort afforded. The massive desk chair was imprinted with the shape of his derriere and thighs, the desktop strewn with the odd trinkets that he fiddled with while he worked, and littered with random notes written in his strong flowing calligraphy. Darcy was highly organized, each document ever signed filed in a logical manner and the ledgers meticulous, yet strangely the surface of his desk was cluttered. It was all a ready reminder of her husband, and for the days he was absent she ignored her own desk in the corner or the one in their sitting room, preferring to sit in his chairs.
Her need to be close to him in even this elemental way ended up being educational. Initially she gave it no real consideration, but as she sat in his office she began idly reading through the carefully filed papers. At first when she came across something that made no sense to her or was written in a puzzling code she passed it by. But more and more she began to see a pattern, and curiosity overcame her. Mr. Keith seemed unperturbed by her nosiness, answering her questions and offering explanations. The files covering her husband's years as Master of Pemberley were separate from those of his father and grandfather. Mr. Keith informed her that past documents and ledgers were stored in a basement chamber, dating back well over a hundred years. Lizzy immediately noted the similarities and differences in the documenting techniques used by Darcy compared to his predecessors, not to mention the larger array of ventures delved into. Some of his recording methods were amazingly simplistic while others were wildly complex. And the number of business transactions, investments, and estate matters was vaster than she had suspected. All of it lent additional insight into the mind of the man she was married to while also increasing her grasp of Pemberley affairs.
Luckily no serious quandaries arose during Darcy's absence. The day-today required purchases of food, household items, provisions for the animals, and such were routinely procured and paid for. Staff wages were disbursed at the end of each week, all earnings tabulated and allocated by Mr. Keith to each person while in Mrs. Darcy's presence. Decisions above and beyond the usual were minimal. An overly abundant and earlier than expected harvest of barley provided an opportunity for Lizzy to receive a crash course in crop management and bartering. With Mr. Keith's patient assistance and the finely detailed notations in Darcy's files, Lizzy transacted a market exchange with a hefty profit and surplus barley storage for Pemberley.
She was quite proud of herself, but primarily she knew that it was the small things such as intact ledgers that would free up an inordinate amount of Darcy's time when he returned. Extending further, Lizzy completed a number of the tasks Darcy had left unfinished due to his hasty departure. She worked very hard to keep it all in the order that Darcy preferred and thrilled in imagining how pleased he would be to discover how well his wife had taken care of matters.
By the end of the first week, Lizzy had a new-found respect for all the business her husband handled. After eleven months she grasped most of the vast estate management of Pemberley but had remained ignorant of the day-to-day tiny things and those business dealings beyond agriculture and livestock. She recognized on a certain level that her obsession was as much to stave off her loneliness as it was to please her already adoring spouse, but she also tremendously enjoyed the challenges.
George Darcy took his role as protector and companion very seriously. He was never far from her side, forever interrupting her to check how she was or bring a snack, and pouring on the charm as he whisked her off for walks about the grounds. His presence in the manor was simultaneously comforting and disconcerting. Lizzy had grown accustomed to the uncanny similarities George shared with her husband, no longer consciously noting them. Until now. The timbre of his laugh, resonance of voice, piercing blue of tender eyes, and general height and posture, even in his extreme boniness, was nearly indistinguishable from his nephew. It unnerved her and intermittently escalated her desperation and soothed it.
Georgiana was nearly as persistent, ensuring that Lizzy was never bored. Her sweetly steady friendship and deep love for her new sister was genuine. They spent numerous evenings together in the Darcys' sitting room, giggling and sharing girlish stories while reclining in robes and nibbling cakes and sipping tea. It greatly facilitated the transition from busy day to solitary night.
Darcy's hasty exodus had allotted no time for her to prepare little notes or intimate reminders to tuck into his valise, so she wrote lengthy lovelorn letters each night to be posted every two days. Pouring her heart did ease the ache somewhat, as did his reply. Sheer exhaustion and the pressing demands of the baby allowed her to sleep deeply with delightful dreams of him, at least for the first week. His first letter arrived on their fourth day apart. Like her, he had composed it in the evenings over two days and it was far more sentimental and erotic then hers. Lizzy experienced slight trepidation over placing boldly intimate ramblings in indelible ink to then be carried across England by strangers. Darcy suffered no such inhibition, surprisingly, as the need to express his desires for her transcended the unlikely possibility of the letter falling into unknown hands.
By the end of the week she was beginning to sense some disquiet at a lack of additional correspondence, having written twice more to him, but assumed it was because he was busy. Then the scribbled note penned by Richard arrived saying only that Darcy was ill with a minor cold, offering a patently lame excuse of sneezing too much to hold a quill as to why he was dictating to Richard. Lizzy did not believe a word of it and was instantly catapulted into panic.
“George!” she yelled, her uncle appearing within seconds and nearly colliding with Lizzy as he bounded over the threshold.
“What is it?”
“Read this and tell me what you think.”
He did, frowning. “Hmmm. Something does not seem right…”
“Not at all. William is ill, Uncle, I can feel it. I need to go to London. Can you help me with the arrangements?” She was already pulling the servants bell.