Free A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Renata McMann, Summer Hanford Page B

Elizabeth said when the smiling cook entered.
    The cook halted halfway across the room. “Miss?” she asked, casting a longing look at the money Mr. Hayes was counting out.
    “You accepting this now is contingent upon cooking dinner tonight,” Elizabeth said in a firm tone.
    Darcy glanced at Anne, finding her regarding Elizabeth with wide eyes.
    “Yes, miss,” the cook said. “I’ve already done half the work.”
    “Fine,” Elizabeth said. “Proceed.”
    The cook hurried forward, her smile reappearing, wider than before, as she accepted her sum.
    If Anne looked distressed over how many of the household staff were leaving, Darcy was more than dismayed at the number of farm workers who said they would depart. True, more of them stayed than did members of the household staff, but there would be difficulty handling the stock and finishing the planting. He wondered how many of the fields hadn’t been planted.
    Finally, no one else seemed to be waiting without. Mr. Greyson and Mrs. Barclay entered.
    “That is the last of them, miss,” Mr. Greyson said. “Will you require anything else?”
    “Not at this time, Greyson,” Anne said, sounding tired. She looked smaller, as if the long afternoon of handing out Lady Catherine’s bequests had diminished her.
    “May we have our sums, then, miss?” Mrs. Barclay asked.
    “Do you plan to stay?” Anne asked before Elizabeth had the opportunity.
    “No, miss,” Mrs. Barclay said. “With your lady mother’s generosity, my husband and I can afford to retire. It’s a blessing, it is. I thought we’d be working until the day we died, hardly ever to see one another. He works two villages over, you see. We only meet on our days off, if we can have them at the same time.”
    Darcy looked at the graying housekeeper, hoping his surprise didn’t show on his face. How had he not known Mrs. Barclay had a husband? He wondered if his aunt had realized the woman wasn’t widowed. As was the case at most estates, his housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, was a widow. He’d been fortunate to find a woman as capable as Mrs. Reynolds who didn’t wish to remarry.
    “I see,” Anne said, handing Mrs. Barclay the money Hayes offered her. “Will you be staying, Greyson?”
    “No, miss,” Mr. Greyson said, his eyes on the sum Anne passed to him. “I’ve long dreamed of my own small dwelling, perhaps with a garden and some geese. A quiet place for my remaining years, near my grandchildren. My son has a cottage on his farm he’s been begging me to take over since his last tenant left. Now I have enough money to do so without burdening him, thanks to Lady Catherine’s generosity. I was always so very grateful to your mother for giving me a place of employment after my wife died. I never expected this additional gift.”
    “Well, I shall miss you both,” Anne said, her voice weak.
    “Thank you, Miss de Bourgh,” Mrs. Barclay said. “It’s been an honor serving you.”
    Clutching her money to her chest, Mrs. Barclay curtsied. Mr. Greyson bowed. They both hurried from the room. Anne sat stiff backed on the settee, looking stunned. Darcy felt a bit dumbfounded himself. A glance askance at Elizabeth, beside him, showed a wry smile barely visible on her downturned face.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Elizabeth dressed for dinner with a trepidation that was all too soon to be vindicated. The meal, which was quite plain, was served by a young, frazzled looking kitchen maid, as all of the footmen had left. With each sign of the maid’s ineptitude, Anne’s face became more drawn. Mr. Darcy looked grim, and Mrs. Jenkinson worried. There was little in the way of conversation, though Elizabeth suspected they were all thinking similarly.
    Elizabeth knew it was on her and Mrs. Jenkinson to provide conversation. Mrs. Jenkinson seemed content to dine in silence, however, and Elizabeth wondered if she was no longer being paid and therefore no longer taking her role as companion to heart. For her part, Elizabeth