The entire house, although neat and in a good state of repair, had that patina of cheerlessness that suggested a bachelor establishment, and Charlotte could not rest until it was as clean and comfortable as she and the servants could make it. This meant that she spent her days in an apron, its pockets filled with beeswax polish and blacking, hung about with dusters and cloths, conferring with the housekeeper and working alongside the maidservant.

This joint labour was prefaced by the need to cultivate the staff, particularly Mrs Brown. Charlotte’s relationship with her housekeeper was a somewhat peculiar one: although as the mistress, and therefore possessed of the power to dismiss – without a reference – any of her servants, Charlotte was aware that the staff served the Parsonage rather than its incumbents. If, for some reason, the living was taken from them and given to another, the Browns and Katie would remain, at least for a time. In other words, regardless of who paid the wages, they served the establishment – and that meant Rosings, rather than herself and Mr Collins. This transitional passage was nevertheless the one at which the housekeeper and her husband were most at risk – the new chatelaine might take it upon herself to dismiss them and install servants known to her. Promises had perhaps been made to others. So all was wary courtesy and exaggerated formality at this awkward stage.

Charlotte was also aware that a steady stream of reportage flowed from Mrs Brown to Rosings in indirect turns and twists as the servants of the two households exchanged news. It was safe to assume that no aspect of her husbandry or the minutiae of her household was private, down to the pennies spent on shoe-blacking. It was therefore necessary to enlist her housekeeper as an ally or, at the very least, maintain with her a cordial détente. This required care and tact; Charlotte had to show impeccable management stratagems alongside a healthy respect for routines already established and tenaciously clung to. After one taxing morning spent inventorying the household plate, glass, and silver, trying to strike the correct balance between encouragement and admonishment as she uncovered mottled gravy dishes, tarnished candlesticks, and cracked china, Charlotte felt that no diplomat in the Indies had ever faced so delicate a task.

Then there was the tithe of marital patience extracted by her husband. She did not need Mr Collins dogging her footsteps, demanding her attention as he rehearsed such small items of news as enlivened their days. Happily, he appreciated her industry almost as much as her role as audience, and here Charlotte found an unexpected ally: Lady Catherine, who openly sent over her servants as much to spy as to carry messages, approved of the new lady of the Parsonage’s bent for domestic organisation.