Elizabeth’s eyebrows arched high at Mrs. Willstone’s words. Never before had she ever referred to her as being in a lower station.

“If you recall, Mrs. Willstone, I was acquainted with Mr. Darcy before I ever took the position of governess. At the time of our acquaintance, I do believe he considered me his equal.”

“Tsk, tsk.” She patted Elizabeth’s hand. “Perhaps it appeared that way. You must remember who he is, my dear. Certainly you understand that he cannot afford to have associations that might tarnish the Darcy name!” She gave her a condescending smile. “I am sure you will understand when I beseech you to refrain from speaking to him… or his sister… in such a familiar manner.” Her lips pursed tightly. “And we must insist that you do not come to the drawing room in the evenings ever again.”

Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she fought an increasing sense of insult and personal disappointment. “Earlier, Mr. Darcy himself invited me to join the others in the drawing room this evening for another game of chess.”

Mrs. Willstone shook her head abruptly. “He is only being polite to you and does not truly expect you to do such a thing. No doubt you have noticed that Miss Bartley does not come to the drawing room. She knows her place. And consider Miss Darcy. The poor girl is so very young and unsure of herself, attempting to learn her duties as Mistress. Do not tempt her with associations that are unsuitable.”

Elizabeth felt her chest tighten so much that she could barely breathe. Certainly Rosalyn was instrumental in prompting this discourse. Elizabeth had readily noticed that Rosalyn had seemed perturbed during the conversation earlier between herself and Mr. Darcy. Moreover, when Rosalyn came upon Miss Darcy with Elizabeth in the music room, there were traces of jealousy in her demeanour.

A myriad of thoughts assaulted Elizabeth, especially when Mrs. Willstone gently patted her hand and continued, “We would not want Mr. Darcy to think ill of Rosalyn because of unbefitting behaviour tolerated by her family.”

“You think my behaviour unbefitting?” Elizabeth asked incredulously.

Mrs. Willstone’s eyes cast briefly toward the ground in an unwitting gesture of discomfiture. “Unbefitting a governess, yes. Miss Bennet, you must know we grieve with you over your change of circumstances. It must be terribly difficult, but Mr. Darcy may be watching Rosalyn carefully for any signs of improper behaviour from her or her family…” Her eyes slowly looked up. “…or the family’s governess.”

Elizabeth wished to defend her actions with everything inside of her, but she knew her only defence was that Mr. Darcy had once made her an offer of marriage, and he was treating her with kindness and courtesy… much more than she ever deserved. “Yes, Mrs. Willstone,” she replied softly.

Elizabeth was grateful, at least, that Mrs. Willstone had not banished her from eating with the others in the dining room. She could easily have requested that she eat with Emily elsewhere. Perhaps if it were not for the presence of the Goldsmiths’ governess, she would have been. She entered the dining room behind the Willstones, uttered a short and succinct greeting to Mr. and Miss Darcy, walked around to the far side of the table, and took the seat next to Emily. As much as she would have liked to converse with the others, she resisted and kept her attention on her ward for the duration of the meal. She did not think she could feel the disparity between her and the others more than at this moment.

* * *

After finishing the meal, Elizabeth and Miss Bartley took the young girls to the children’s nursery and allowed them to play until almost nine o’clock.

She watched Miss Bartley throughout their time with the children, admiring her ability to teach the girls in the midst of play. She gave every appearance of loving what she did, and she did it well.

At length, Elizabeth turned to her. “Miss Bartley, you have been a governess for quite a long time. May I ask you a question?”

“Is there something about which you need advice? I would be more than happy to share from my years in this position.”

Elizabeth breathed in deeply. “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.” She wrung her hands together as she formulated her question.

“Do you think… have you seen… any inappropriate behaviour on my part… that is, behaviour unbefitting a governess… in regards to Mr. Darcy or his sister?”

“Heavens, no!” she exclaimed. “What has brought this on?”

“I was informed that I have spoken with too much familiarity to them. It began, I believe, when I took Emily into the drawing room one evening to say good night. I soon found myself in a chess match with Mr. Darcy.”

Miss Bartley’s eyes widened. “Truly?” Her eyes crinkled as she leaned in. “Who won?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Needless to say, I have been strongly warned.”

Miss Bartley narrowed her eyes. “It is an unfortunate position we are in, Miss Bennet. Oftentimes the servants will look down on us for being their superior, and those in upper classes look down on us as being their inferior.” She looked at Elizabeth with understanding eyes. “It is an even greater misfortune when you once had the standing of society.”

“I suppose it is something I have had a difficult time getting used to.”

“May I say, Miss Bennet, that a governess must behave cautiously, for there have been far too many a naïve young lady who has gone into a household as governess and allowed herself to be disgraced due to the prodigious attentions of a master.”

“I hardly think Mr. Darcy would…”

Miss Bartley shook her head in denial. “No, I have never heard anything even remotely improper concerning the man. The Goldsmiths have been close acquaintances with him as long as I have been with them, and they always speak of him in the highest regard.”

Elizabeth remained thoughtfully silent.

“I understand you knew him before…”

Elizabeth looked up with an arched brow. A wry smile appeared. “Yes, but I fear our acquaintance was a rather contrary one. I believed him to be rather proud and unfriendly. I was not afraid to let him know how affronted I was by some of his behaviour… which, I now comprehend, was due more to reserve than pride.”

“Oh, the lessons we sometimes learn too late.”

“Far too late,” Elizabeth added softly.

* * *

The rains persisted throughout the night, occasionally interspersed with a flash of lightning and boom of distant thunder. Sleep came sparingly for Elizabeth as her turbulent thoughts vied with the fierce rain to keep her from the sleep she so desired.

She found herself wondering what took place in the drawing room that evening. What conversations took place? What did Mr. Darcy talk about… and with whom did he speak? Did he even notice her absence?

The downpour also brought to her recollections of occasions at Longbourn when the rains pelted the roof so violently that it eventually worked its way in. Mary had been the unfortunate one who needed to sleep with buckets on the floor in her room to catch the water until the roof could be repaired. Other times there had been leaks in the kitchen and sitting room. While she felt safe and secure within the walls of Pemberley, her heart still ached for Longbourn and the life she had had there.

That morning, after having slept very little, she awoke to the increasingly familiar sound of rain hitting the windows. She and Emily dressed and went downstairs. As they entered the dining room, Mr. Darcy greeted them, a raised eyebrow to Elizabeth the only indication that he may have wondered why she did not join them in the drawing room the night before.

During the meal, as everyone enjoyed the bountiful repast, there was much talk about the rains. Several commented on the growing rivulets of water they noticed cascading down the incline away from the house. Small ravines in the landscape were now pooled with water, creeks were now rivers, and the lake in front was continually increasing in length and width.

Elizabeth could see the strain of uncertainty on Miss Darcy’s face as she was again faced with another day of entertaining everyone indoors. The men, who had hoped to spend the morning fishing, agreed that conditions were just not suitable.

As they were finishing up the meal, Mr. Darcy’s steward, Mr. Barstow, came in and whispered something to him. He immediately stood up, his eyes narrowed in concern. He turned to his guests at the table, begging to be excused for a moment. He followed Mr. Barstow, walking out in haste.

Everyone turned to each other, wondering what may have occurred. Without bothering to make his own conjecture or ask to be excused, Mr. Hamilton promptly stood up and followed his cousin. Miss Darcy watched him leave and then looked back at her guests, uncertainty etched on her face. Mr. Goldsmith stood up and was also soon out of the room.

No one seemed to notice Miss Darcy’s distress save Elizabeth, who finally said to the young girl, “Miss Darcy, we will understand if you wish to join your brother.”

A small smile appeared. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I believe I shall.” She looked to the others. “Please excuse me.”

For several minutes they could hear hushed but intense voices outside in the hall. At length, they returned.

Miss Darcy and Mr. Goldsmith took their seats while her brother and cousin remained standing. Miss Darcy looked noticeably troubled and the three men sombre. Everyone waited to hear what Mr. Darcy had to say.

“With all the rains we have had, in addition to heavier rains up north, the rivers have swollen considerably and are now overflowing their banks, threatening some of my tenants’ homes. Those who were able to leave have fled and are taking refuge with family members or at inns in neighbouring villages. Unfortunately, a few of my tenants are stranded; a bridge that crossed the river is now submerged. Several have attempted to cross it, but travel is treacherous. It is even thought that someone may have been swept away in the waters, and there are people searching for him. These families are unable to make it safely anywhere… but here.”