Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

W hen he was not out dining with friends or quietly reading over a tray in his study, Mr Bennet, at the invitation of his upper servants, began to occasionally take his evening meal with them. At first it was quite awkward. As in many manor houses, the servants' frequent topic of dinner discussion had been the family that they served. But the servants of Longbourn had lost that family, all but one.

There was one subject, or more specifically four, in which they all shared an interest, and that was his daughters. After his first uncomfortable foray into sharing a meal with his servants, Mr Bennet hit upon bringing his letters from his daughters with him. They were read and dissected with enthusiasm at the table. Mrs Hill, Mr Osbeck, Mrs Jenks, and Mr Emmons were pleased to hear the family news.

Their meals together were not noisy. His servants had better manners than his youngest daughters had displayed. He shook his head when he remembered Lydia's inappropriate remarks at dinner, her loud self-absorption, and Fanny egging her on. They had been bound for destruction then, and he had not seen it coming. He had mocked them and laughed at them instead.

Hill's presence was particularly calming to him. She was obviously intelligent, and as Fanny Bennet's housekeeper, she had developed great expertise in solving problems and placating nerves. She carried herself like a lady and spoke like one. She smelt of lemons and beeswax and soap.

As the days and weeks passed, he began to share the occasional evening of cribbage with Osbeck and Emmons. It was a letter from Lizzy wherein she shared her celestial observations and mentioned her chess games with Bancroft that reminded him that Hill knew how to play. With chessboard in hand, he asked her whether she would be willing to try a game with him.

Hill was quite good, even difficult for him to match. As Mr Bennet began to entertain other ideas about her, he could not help but compare her to his late wife. Hill's behaviour had always been that of a gentlewoman. She was clever and practical, and most of all she was a restful woman. Fanny had been anything but restful.

Hill was not a beauty, but her features were regular and pleasing. Her countenance reflected her intelligence, sense, and even humour. Mr Bennet began to wonder how his longtime housekeeper had become such a worthy woman. So, one evening, he asked her.

"He fancies you, Sarah," said Daisy Jenks.

Mrs Hill stopped abruptly in the middle of making her monthly shopping lists. She set her quill down and pondered. Does he? Did Mr Bennet respect her as a person, or did he wish to do as some other masters did and treat his female servants as a convenience? She knew it happened at several of the local estates, Mr Goulding being the worst, but could not believe it of Mr Bennet; he had always been decent and courteous to all of them.

The barriers separating master and servant had been slowly crumbling since the beginning of their isolation from the rest of society over two years before. Mr Bennet appeared interested in her. He had asked about her upbringing, and she had been truthful, as truthful as she had been in telling it to his daughters after their mother's death.

She could tell it had shocked him, both the story and her frankness in telling it. To his credit, it had not caused him to treat her any differently.

"Do you like him?" Daisy persisted.

Hill answered slowly. "I do not dislike him. I took issue with the way he used to behave towards Mrs Bennet and the girls, but I believe the shock of his wife and daughter's deaths has changed him. He is remorseful for his neglect of them, and perhaps a bit lonely."

She smiled. Mr Bennet had been so utterly dumbfounded when she had informed him of the reason the ladies of the neighbourhood had shown so much interest. It had been rather comical, and in truth a little endearing. Perhaps he was thinking about marrying again. Still, it seemed highly unlikely that a gentleman with an estate of his own would propose anything honourable to a servant.

Osbeck came into the kitchen, flannel rags and a bottle of silver polish in his hands. "What would you do if he made you an honourable offer?" he said, having obviously been listening in.

"I do not know," Hill said honestly. She was several years younger than Mrs Bennet had been. She was still of childbearing age and could possibly give him an heir, but what if she could only give him more daughters? Would she grow as nervous as Mrs Bennet had been?

"All I know is that I won't work for that Collins," said Osbeck definitively. "Neither will Davy, nor Emmons, nor any of the farmhands."

"I won't either," Jenks joined in. "And I'll take Ruthie and Martha with me. That so-called man of God pinched the girls' bottoms and tried to corner Ruthie alone in the pantry. We're lucky that Davy came in just then!"

Hill picked up her quill and went back to her list, but her mind was otherwise occupied. Would Mr Bennet make her an offer of marriage? Could she accept? She did not mind his company. And perhaps the spectre of Collins as the master of Longbourn could be banished forever.

But of course, masters did not offer marriage to their housekeepers.

Rather than be put off by Mrs Hill's frank and unsparing tale of her childhood, Mr Bennet found that it only increased his respect for her. She had shown him the necklace her unknown mother had been wearing when she came to the workhouse. It was a simple gold necklace; a delicate chain with a pink topaz surrounded by tiny pearls, expensive but not showy, the kind that might have been given to the young daughter of a wealthy family. There was a distinct possibility that Mrs Hill's natural parents might have been of better standing than Fanny's, which he found amusing. She had been raised by another unknown gentlewoman, who apparently had known what she was about.

He was attracted to Hill but not in love. Mr Bennet had experienced calf-love a few times before the bungled entrapment attempt that had obliged him to marry Fanny, but he had never felt such pangs as an adult. He did not love his housekeeper, that would be ridiculous, but he did like and respect her. He had a feeling both he and his estate would benefit from a mistress like Mrs Hill, whether she could give him an heir or not.