Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Abigail Reynolds

  She chose to visit the tenants with simpler situations first: a new infant, an ill child, a recent death. She had made similar charity visits at Longbourn, though it seemed odd to call upon complete strangers. It helped her regain some of her old assur ance. To the Pemberley tenants, her connections did not make her second rate, and they were proud to have Mrs. Darcy call. It had been so long since anyone had been glad to see her, Elizabeth could not help but find some comfort in their pleasure. The newborn babe, bound in coarse swaddling, his baby hair soft against her cheek, did not judge her. The tenants were charmed by her smiles and her easy ways.

  Her trepidation increased as they approached the Tanner cottage. Signs of poor maintenance showed even on the outside: ragged thatch, cracks in the timbers, a path growing over with weeds. Only the small vegetable garden appeared cared for. Summoning a mantle of confidence, Elizabeth knocked at the ill-hung door.

  It was opened by a girl of perhaps six, clad in a faded and stained dress, with signs of careful mending. Her eyes widened when she saw Elizabeth, and she scampered back inside without a word. A moment later, a woman appeared in the doorway, her hollow cheeks a contrast to the roundness of her body. It was clear she was not far from her confinement. She glanced nervously over Elizabeth's shoulder, as if watching for someone.

  Elizabeth introduced herself while the footman carried in a basket of food and sundries. The tenant homes she had seen so far were small but well kept. This one offered little in the way of furniture, and that in poor state.

  Two little boys toddled up to her curiously. Elizabeth spoke to them in a friendly tone. "Do you like gingerbread?"

  The older of the two, who could not have been above four years of age, glanced uncertainly at his mother. Elizabeth could not help but be disturbed at the degree of anxiety in such a small child.

  "When I was your age, I adored it, so I brought some along in case you liked it as well." She produced several pieces and held them out. Each of the boys snatched one, and the older girl crept cautiously closer as Elizabeth offered her one with a smile. The children stuffed the treat into their mouths as if they expected to have it snatched away at any moment.

  Elizabeth dusted off her hands. "Well, I can see you do not hate it. Shall I bring more the next time I come?"

  "Yes, please," the girl whispered.

  Mrs. Tanner expressed hesitant gratitude for the food Elizabeth had brought. "Especially for the children," she said.

  "You must eat, too." Elizabeth suspected she might be going hungry in favour of her children. "Is there anything in particular you might find helpful?"

  "Thank you kindly, Mrs. Darcy, but we will manage." Her eyes slid away.

  Elizabeth remembered Mrs. Reynolds's words about Mr. Tanner selling their possessions for drink. If that were the case, there would be little point in bringing blankets to replace the tattered ones on the bed. Food might be the only assistance she could offer.

  ***

  Elizabeth wondered whether Darcy would question her tenant visits, but when he said nothing, she followed his lead and did not mention her activities. She developed a routine of visitation every second day, becoming a familiar sight among the small farms of Pemberley. She varied the households she visited but always ended with the Tanners. By the third time she called at the house, the children came running to her for their sweets and no longer seemed so desperate to eat them immediately. Mrs. Tanner rarely said anything beyond thanking Elizabeth for her generosity, but her eyes showed deep gratitude as well as the ever-present fear. Elizabeth understood it better after one occasion when she discovered bruises on Mrs. Tanner's face and arms. It infuriated Elizabeth, but there was nothing to be done for it. She never saw Mr. Tanner; it was as if he did not exist.

  Mrs. Reynolds referred to the visits as Mrs. Darcy's chari table activities, but Elizabeth could not think of it as charity. The truth of the matter was that she was happier when visiting the tenants than at any other time. She gave them much needed food and sundries, but they gave her something even more valuable—respect and admiration. As she grew to know the children better, the casual affection they gave her was like water in the desert.

  Some of her growing confidence showed to her new family as well. Although she continued to keep her innermost thoughts her own, she made a greater effort to show interest in Georgiana's activities. It became easier with the passage of days and weeks for her to act almost naturally with Mr. Darcy. She became bolder in the stable yard as well, holding her own reins as she made slow circuits on Pandora.

  Finally, the day came when she pronounced herself ready to venture beyond the stable yard. Darcy immediately asked for one of his horses to be saddled—not Hurricane, Elizabeth noted, but one she had not seen before, a handsome Arabian, large but placid in appearance.

  "Where would you like to go?" Darcy asked.

  Elizabeth considered where the ground was most even. "Perhaps

  around the lake." It was farther than she would rather go this first time, but she hoped Darcy would be pleased by her initiative.

  Although they set out at a sedate walk, Elizabeth's hands clutched the reins. From time to time, she glanced at Darcy. He looked perfectly at ease in the saddle, as always, and seemed to spend most of his time watching her rather than the path they were taking. Elizabeth eyed the ground with some anxiety, relaxing only a little when they reached the soft grasses of the bank.

  They were near the stone bridge on the far side of the lake when Darcy said, "One of my favourite spots is nearby. If you like, I can show you it, but we would have to leave the horses here."

  Elizabeth hesitated, unsure she wished to prolong the ride. But it seemed rude to refuse, so she said she would be happy to see it.

  Darcy dismounted with graceful ease and tied his horse's reins to a sapling. He came alongside Pandora just as Elizabeth was contemplating the unpleasant prospect of reaching the ground without the assistance of the mounting block. Without asking her permission, he placed his hands on her waist.

  A brief panic overtook her. What if she lost her balance without the stability of the mounting block? She caught at Darcy's shoulders as he lifted her down. It was not until her feet had rested safely on the ground for some moments that she could breathe easily enough to release her grip. Darcy looked down at her with an odd expression, but he let his hands slip off her waist without a word. She could still feel the warmth of his touch.

  "Come," he said, "It is this way, through the trees."

  She followed him to a grassy bank where the brook tumbled merrily over a series of small cascades before losing itself in the depths of the pond. She had seen the same spot from the other side of the lake countless times, but its charm was not apparent from a distance. She bent down and let the cold water run over her fingers then turned to Darcy with a smile. "It is very soothing," she said. "I wonder where the stream begins."

  He pointed to the north. "It has its source in the peaks yonder. The Lambton road follows the valley it has carved over the years."

  "Such a small stream to have created such a passage! Your knowledge of the landscape never fails to surprise me."

  "It is my home." He seated himself on the grass above her and gestured for her to join him.

  She complied, though it made her heart beat faster. It had not escaped her notice that this was the first time since their quarrel they had been alone together in a place where no servants or grooms could be expected to interrupt them. His recent amiability, she knew, must have a goal. The matter of an heir to Pemberley must be in his mind. Certainly he could demand his rights in that regard at any point, but she was beginning to understand that was not in his character. She did not know how it might come about, but she had long since decided when he did approach her, she would greet him with as much civility as she could muster. Still, the uncertainty of it was something she thought of often, and she wondered if he intended to test the waters with her today.

  She was taken quite by surprise when he said, "
Tell me about your eldest sister."

  Elizabeth looked away, remembering the last time Jane's name had arisen between them. She did not want a repeat of their quarrel. "Jane? She is always patient, always kind. She thinks the best of everyone, no matter how telling the evidence against them."

  "You are close to her?"

  "I was." She remembered her discussion with Jane the night before her wedding. No, since her engagement, she could not claim to be close to Jane.

  "But no longer? Why not?"

  She hesitated, not wanting to mention his prohibition on writing to her family. Apart from the matter of the Gardiners' visit, he had never said anything further about her corre spondence, and she had not wanted to risk asking. "She is in Hertfordshire and I am here. Also, Jane has been unhappy of late and not prone to confidences."

  Darcy stood and moved restlessly to the edge of the lake. Picking up a long stick, he swished it through the water. "Why is she unhappy?" His tone was guarded.

  "Must we discuss this?" she asked impulsively. "I would rather enjoy the day." Not that she was likely to be at ease with another ride ahead of her.

  "Elizabeth, I observed your sister closely on the evening of the ball at Netherfield. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging, but I perceived no symptoms of peculiar regard for Bingley. She seemed to receive his attentions with pleasure but with no evidence of attachment." He spoke as if his impressions were well-accepted facts.

  "There was an attachment. Jane's feelings, though fervent, are little displayed." She tried to speak as calmly as possible, but too many lonely days spent worrying over Jane's unhappiness made it difficult.

  He walked up and down the bank in silence then said, "I must have been in error, then. Your knowledge of your sister is indubitably the superior."

  The acknowledgement must have come at some cost to such a proud man, but Elizabeth could not help thinking it was too late to help Jane. She remembered Jane's sadness after Bingley's departure and her own anger. "Jane is not mercenary."

  Darcy's lips tightened. "I may have acted in error, but it was done for the best. I did not want Bingley to suffer a marriage where his regard was not returned."

  Silence spread like ripples on the lake. Elizabeth averted her eyes, knowing there was nothing she could say in reply. He had not wished that fate on Bingley, and he had taken it on himself instead.

  "Perhaps we ought to return now," Darcy said brusquely. He offered Elizabeth his hand to help her to her feet, but there was no warmth in his expression. The curl of his lip suggested he was offering his assistance only because he must and not out of any desire to do so.

  Elizabeth followed him back to the horses without a word. They had been doing so well and now this. Surely this could not be the end of their civility! She sought desperately for some response which might alleviate the tension, but watching the set of his shoulders as he strode ahead of her, she decided it would be wiser to say nothing now.

  When she reached Pandora's side, she realised that she still lacked the mounting block. She examined the mare's chestnut flanks as if she might find another answer there until she heard Darcy's footsteps behind her.

  "I fear I will need your assistance to reach the saddle," she said apologetically.

  His only response was to place his hands on her waist and lift her to the saddle once more. It was fortunate Pandora was so small.

  Ignoring her thanks, he mounted his horse and started off down the path. Pandora followed her stable mate's lead, which was fortunate, since Elizabeth felt unequal to putting her lessons in horsemanship to the test. She could find no relief for her sense of loss.

  He made no effort to converse as they continued their way back, and Elizabeth was grateful to see the stables coming into view. She did not realise until she dismounted at the block that, in her distress over their discussion, she had not given a second thought to her fear of riding. Excitedly, she turned to Darcy, wanting to share this success with him, but his back was to her. Her courage failed her as she heard him brusquely ask the stable boy to saddle Hurricane.

  She could not face him. Instead, she collected Pandora's reins and led her towards the stable. One of the stable hands offered to take her, but Elizabeth shook her head. At Pandora's stall, Elizabeth removed her bridle and found a wizened apple. The horse took the treat from her happily then whickered in her ear.

  She saw Hurricane being led past on his way to Darcy. With a shiver of something that might have been pain, Elizabeth buried her face in Pandora's mane, letting the horse's warmth comfort her.

  ***

  It was nearly suppertime and Elizabeth had yet to see her husband since their ride in the morning. She had watched without success for his return, although she did not know what she would say when she saw him again. She was not yet equal to seeking him out, but when one of the maids came in to offer her refreshment, Elizabeth asked whether Mr. Darcy had arrived back from his ride.

  "Madam, begging your pardon, the master's horse came back without him."

  "Without him?" cried Elizabeth. "Then where is he?"

  The maid shrugged helplessly. "That is all I know, please, madam."

  Elizabeth frowned. "Would you tell Mrs. Reynolds I would like to speak to her?" The maid curtseyed and left.

  Elizabeth's eyes drifted to the window. What could have happened? She had never trusted that stallion. What if Darcy had been thrown and was injured, or worse than injured? She stood and went to the window.

  She was still gazing out when Mrs. Reynolds arrived. "You wished to see me, madam?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Reynolds. I am told Mr. Darcy's horse returned without him," said Elizabeth, her voice tight. "Do you know anything of this?"

  "Only that the horse returned some two hours past, and there is no sign of injury on it."

  "Two hours past!" Elizabeth cried. "Why was I not informed?"

  "We thought it best not to worry you, madam. Mr. Darcy is an excellent horseman, and I do not doubt he dismounted for some reason and the horse ran off."

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Even the finest of horsemen can take a fall. We must arrange a search for him. He could be injured."

  "Mr. Dunstan sent out all the available men as soon as he heard, but it is only a precaution, madam. I am certain myself Mr. Darcy will walk in at any moment demanding his dinner."

  Despite the housekeeper's reassuring words, Elizabeth was

  certain Mrs. Reynolds was worried as well. She herself knew an anxiety verging on panic.

  She had never mentioned to Darcy that the man she saw fall from horseback all those years ago had not survived the incident. She could still remember the whole episode as if it were yesterday—the arc his body made flying through the air, the horrible cracking sound when he struck the ground, and the blood gushing from a wound in his skull then slowing to a standstill a few minutes later as the life left his body. She had been terrified and ran home in a panic. Unable to stop crying, she had been sent to bed where Hill had brought her a posset; Elizabeth had never been able to abide the taste of one since.

  What if Darcy were lying out in the hills, bleeding out his last? Wrapping her arms around herself, she began to pace. The mere idea she might never speak to him again, never see his smile or the warmth his eyes sometimes held when he looked at her made her heart pound. The fear was exactly calculated to make her recognise her own wishes.

  She did not want to forget the past three months; she wanted to start them over again with the knowledge she now possessed. What might this time have been like had she loved Darcy from the first? If he never returned, she might never even have a chance to tell him. Oh, the opportunities she had wasted!

  She crossed to the window again, but the glare of the setting sun made it impossible to see anything on the steep hills surrounding Pemberley.

  Chapter 10

  IT WAS MORE TO avoid the appearance of impropriety than any desire for food that caused Elizabeth to join Georgiana for supper. It was difficult to ma
ke conversation when her thoughts were occupied by Darcy's continued absence.

  "Elizabeth, there is no cause for alarm. Fitzwilliam is an excellent horseman and knows what he is about." Georgiana's voice was cool.

  Elizabeth pushed her meat around on her plate with her fork. "I hope you are correct. I cannot help but worry."

  "Why?"

  Somehow she knew the question did not refer to why she felt he was in danger, but rather why it would trouble her if something happened to him. Was this some of the same sort of odd frankness Darcy possessed or Georgiana's own bitterness? She would never have said such a thing were her brother present. Elizabeth took a sip of wine to give herself time to formulate a response. "Appearances are sometimes deceptive, Georgiana. I care about your brother a great deal."