“According to my brother, Mr. Darcy and his people arrived before Phillip made it out to the fields. He was unexpected until tomorrow but brought enough men and women with him to save the crop. My brother is in his debt. All of Chenowith is in his debt.”
Elizabeth sipped her wine, ignoring the gaze of her aunt.
“Lambton is but a short distance from Pemberley, Madeline. Do you hope to visit there when you depart Chenowith?”
“We have no fixed plans.”
“Oh, then we must tell Mr. Darcy. I am certain he will invite you to Pemberley. He is a most thoughtful host and such a good friend to Phillip. He has his own estate to be concerned with but always comes to Phillip’s rescue.”
“Lizzy became acquainted with him in Hertfordshire last autumn,” Mrs. Gardiner said dabbing the corners of her mouth.
“And how did you like him? Is he not the most handsome gentleman? And his manners so refined?”
Elizabeth swallowed her initial response and offered a weak smile. “I found him tolerable.”
“Tolerable? Oh, Miss Bennet, how you jest.” Their hostess continued. “It is marvelous for you to meet him again in our part of the world. There is only one Mr. Darcy.”
Of that, the world can be grateful.
“This is how an estate owner celebrates with his tenants, Phillip,” Darcy said to his friend while sitting on a log around the bonfire with his tankard of ale. He leaned back against a large rock and took a swig while the sparks popped to the night sky. The aroma of the potatoes baking in the coals at the base of the fire was almost overpowered by the odor of the unwashed.
“I am glad to see you at ease, Darcy. I have not seen you so relaxed since last summer before you left for Ramsgate to meet your sister.”
Darcy paused, remembering the almost ill-fated trip. “Yes, well,” he said, taking another drink and staring into the fire, “life has a way of catching up to a man when he is unaware of its approach. As I have often thought, there are benefits to not always being a man of leisure—sometimes one needs to feel the soil between his fingers to appreciate all he has.” Taking another long drink, his eyes returned to the glowing flames, not surprised to be thinking of her again. Rousing himself to respond to Phillip, he said, “I am uncertain, however, if Briggs would share my sentiments.”
“What causes you to be so pensive, Darcy? Are you thinking about a fair maiden? Have you decided it is time to take a bride and give Georgiana a sister?”
He remained quiet and Phillip continued. “I hope you’re not truly considering your cousin, Miss de Bourgh. I am in no way attempting to disparage her, but you need a woman with more fire. Someone filled with life and joy. Someone who can challenge your intellect. Someone like—”
Elizabeth Bennet. His mind finished his friend’s sentence before taking another drink.
“Lady Cecilia Markham.”
Snapping from his solitary thoughts, Darcy turned to Phillip. “Pardon?”
“Lady Cecilia Markham. She would be a good match for you. She is uncommonly pretty, intelligent, has wonderful connections, and would be the perfect complement to your sour disposition.”
“Lady Cecilia Markham?”
“Yes. She has thirty-thousand pounds and speaks four languages. If I was in her sphere, which I am not, she would be on the top of my list.”
“And when did you become an old hen?”
“Never,” his friend replied, laughing. “Only I saw her several times in Town over the last month, and her father as well.”
“Hmmm…” Darcy said, allowing the idea to take root. Miss Markham is just the sort my family would expect me to offer for—and is nothing like Elizabeth. But her blonde ringlets and blue eyes would never remind me of the lovely lass from Hertfordshire.
“But, I hope you will forgive me.”
“For?”
Turner tossed back his glass before answering. “I may have mentioned to Lord Markham about Miss Darcy’s ball. I fear he may expect an invitation.”
“How so?”
“He mentioned several times how friendly Lady Cecilia and Miss Georgiana are—how they were the best of friends at school.”
“Did he?” Darcy rested his glass next to him. “I never heard Georgiana mention Lady Cecilia with pointed affection, but there are things about young girls I do not understand. My father did business with Lord Markham and spoke well of him. I will write him tomorrow with the invitation.”
“Whether you are choosing Lady Cecilia for a bride, inviting the Markhams to the ball, or just having another tankard of ale, the choice is yours, Darce.”
Both men chuckled as one of the tenants added another log to the fire. Darcy said, “Yes, yes, you are right. The choice is mine. And I choose to retire. Chenowith calls to me.”
“As disappointed as you are to have finished this work, I am sure no matter the position in society of the young lady visiting my sister, her presence will be infinitely more tolerable than those laboring in the hot sun all day.”
Darcy dusted himself off before stepping around men, women, and children lolling about. “Yes, well. I am uncertain how long I will stay. At least one night, to make sure we have the fields in hand, but then I might leave. Georgiana will have missed me, as I have been away on business too. Besides, the promise of the company of this one young miss cannot compare to the pleasures of my own home. She would have to be more than merely tolerable to tempt me to stay.”
“Ha! Well, we shall see when we meet her on the morrow. Let us go, friend.”
“Aunt Madeline,” Elizabeth called out from their shared sitting room and opened the door to her aunt’s bedroom. “It has been such a lovely day. I must say, Mrs. Anderson is quite jovial. Her stories from when you first met were so entertaining. I could never have imagined.”
Madeline Gardiner wrapped her robe around herself and dismissed her maid. “Yes, Amelia is always amusing. We had many adventures in our earliest years of marriage.”
“Aunt, you sound as if you are Methuselah!”
“Not quite, Lizzy, but there are days I feel that way!” she chuckled, blowing out the candles by her armoire. “Would you like to stay and chat, my dear?”
“No, thank you. I shall go to bed. My head aches, and I wish to be fresh for our ramble to the village.”
“Goodnight, then. Pleasant dreams.”
“Goodnight, Aunt.” Elizabeth closed the door behind her and blew out the candle before crawling into her bed. Soon I will see Mr. Darcy again. He may have no recollection of me, but I have been unable to forget him and his unkindness to Mr. Wickham. She rolled over in bed and said to the moon outside her window, “Although I cannot prove it, I am certain he led Bingley’s charge back to London.”
How could I ever forgive a man for ruining the happiness of my sister, no matter how many potatoes he helped a neighbor harvest? And it is not as if he shoveled them himself!
Chapter 3
July 3, 1812
The cheerful sound of merchants selling their wares delighted Elizabeth as she and her aunt, along with Mrs. Anderson, exited the haberdashery and began their walk to the book shop.
“Cranston is such a charming village,” she said, tucking the ribbon she had purchased into her reticule. “It reminds me so much of Meryton.”
“I had a line from Phillip this morning. The work is all but complete. He and Mr. Darcy will not be at leisure until tomorrow.” Mrs. Anderson laughed at the children playing rounders in the street.
“Lizzy was quite the rounders player when she was a young girl.”
“Were you, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Anderson asked, turning to her.
“Aunt, I was not exceptionally gifted. Only because I frequently played with the Lucas boys, my abilities were considered better than my sisters’. But nothing more.”
“Nothing more?” her aunt harrumphed. “I received many a letter from your mother lamenting that no man would marry you because your petticoats would be torn and dirty!” The ladies laughed together
as the sounds of the children increased while they made their way towards the book shop’s door.
“Yes, well. Apparently, my mother’s concern had some merit, as there have been no gentlemen petitioning my father as of late.” And my cousin Collins’ botched proposal is not worth the memory. “But, be that as it may”—she opened the door before turning to her aunt and Mrs. Anderson with mischief in her eyes— “I could still trounce the whole gaggle of the Lucas boys!”
As they were paying for their purchases and deciding on their next excursion, a thud was heard at the shop door.
“Those young’uns have been at it all day!” the shopkeeper said, shaking his head. “They’ve hit my building six times and almost broke a window. It is not safe for you ladies to go out there until I make them stop.”
“Oh, Mr. Jones, they are just children. We made it through their game unscathed when we entered. We shall be fine departing.”
“If you are certain, Mrs. Anderson. I would not wish for you or your guests to be bothered by those imps.”
“I thank you, but we shall be fine.”
“Very well, then. Good day to you, ladies.”
“Good day,” Mrs. Anderson said, as they excited the store. “Now ladies, I was thinking we might go to the butcher. I would like to order something special for Phillip’s return from the life of a field laborer. But first—tea. I could do for a cup of tea.”
Her words were interrupted by shrill screams of “look out” and “move’’ to which the ladies turned at once. But it was too late. The ball from the rounders game had flown across the square and grazed past Elizabeth’s nose, causing Mrs. Gardiner to screech.
“Lizzy!”
Elizabeth put up her hand to calm her aunt’s hysterics. “I am well, Aunt.” Leaning down to pick up the hard, leather ball, she turned to the square where the numerous children had been playing moments before.
Mrs. Anderson huffed. “They have all scattered! Scamps!”
“I would have scattered as well,” Lizzy said, stepping down towards the street. She tossed the ball up in the air and caught it as they made their way down towards the tea shop, before setting it on a windowsill to be reclaimed by one of the culprits.
“Those children are running wild.”
“Mrs. Anderson, please do not trouble yourself. They are only children. As you might imagine, little Lizzy Bennet had been in similar scrapes. There was no harm done.”
Mrs. Anderson sniffed. “That is more than they deserve, but, once again if you are well, then I suppose we can forgive this mishap. Now, we must hie to Gray’s. I have it on good authority that Mrs. Gray just received the most delicious shipment of chocolate tea from Spain. You have never tasted the like!”
Elizabeth and her aunt Gardiner followed Mrs. Anderson chattering about their purchases and other entertainment, unaware of a stunned gaze from across the street.
Her! The daughter of the poor country gentleman that Turner mentioned is my Elizabeth Bennet. What is the likelihood we should meet again? Here? And yet, there she was, across the square, looking as lovely as when he last saw her at Netherfield eight months ago.
True, she was a little more tanned than before, but her skin had a healthy glow, enhanced by the yellow of her dress. Her laugh flitted across the road, distracting him and he almost missed Turner coming from the blacksmith’s.
“He said it will be at least two hours before the horse can be reshod. Instead of waiting, I will send for him tomorrow, but I can hire a horse so we might oversee the last of this harvest.”
“Very well,” Darcy said, still unable to concentrate entirely on what his friend had said. “Shall we return to the fields?”
Turner looked at him with a raised brow. “Are you feeling well, Darcy? I just said we would return directly. Were you not attending?”
“Forgive me, Phillip. I was not. Yes, let us depart.” He followed Turner to the stables, before mounting his stallion, at the block.
“Easy, old friend,” he said, rubbing the horse’s withers. “I am as fidgety as you. I know you want to run, and I—I hope not to.”
“What a week it has been, Darcy. Your tenants are worth their weight in gold.”
“You are very welcome. Their arrival allowed us to finish two days ahead of schedule.” Both men chuckled as they walked into the front hall of Chenowith and handed their belongings to a footman.
“Mr. Turner. And Mr. Darcy, welcome back.”
Turner nodded while Darcy said, “Thank you, Mrs. Green.” He looked expectantly for Elizabeth Bennet before continuing. “It is fortunate Chenowith is so close to your family home. How are your parents?”
“Yes, sir, all are well. I thank you for remembering.”
“Good, good. Matlock House misses you—my aunt for your sense and my cousin Richard for your taffy.”
She grinned. “Mr. Darcy, I have had no taffy in these pockets for you boys since you were ten years old. And although I miss working for Lord and Lady Matlock, Chenowith is now my home, and Mr. Turner is a fine master.”
“I am certain.”
“Mr. Darcy, we are grateful you were not averse to staying in a different room these last couple nights. However, all has been made right, and Briggs awaits you in your usual quarters.”
Darcy nodded.
“And my sister?” Phillip asked. “Is she at home?”
“Yes. She and her guests returned from the village an hour ago. The young miss had a headache and has retired. However, your sister and Mrs. Gardiner will be down for dinner in an hour and a half.”
Darcy hoped Phillip did not notice his body tense at the mention of the young miss.
“I believe both Darcy and I will be down in plenty of time. What say you, Darcy?”
“I look forward to the introduction. If you will excuse me? I would like to wash a field’s worth of dirt from my person.” He bowed and briskly walked up the stairs to his room, grateful Briggs had anticipated his need for a hot bath, and that he had more time to compose himself before Miss Elizabeth was to intrude on his peace once again.
A gentle breeze blew across Elizabeth’s cheek, as she rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. The sound of movement in her aunt’s room caught her attention, but she was unwilling to rise, lost in the thought of how grateful she was for Mrs. Anderson’s intelligence. That they remain in the fields another day allows me to collect my thoughts on how to meet with such a disagreeable man.
She had removed the pins from her hair and the maid had helped her out of her dress and stays before her rest. Realizing it was now almost time to change for dinner, she grabbed her robe from the dresser and was tying it around her waist as she glimpsed herself in the mirror. Her wild appearance made her laugh. “I would not be able to begrudge him if he were to repeat his statement. ‘Not handsome enough,’ indeed!” She snickered as she walked to the adjoining room to her aunt. “Well, there is nothing about Mr. Darcy that is handsome enough to tempt me either. He is tolerable I suppose”—and she opened the door.
Darcy soaked so long in the bath that his fingers had begun to wrinkle. But, he cared little. His limbs were sore and his shoulders knotted from the unaccustomed labor. Briggs had tutted over the filth and Darcy mused if the censure was more about his person or the shirt stains.
He walked to his sitting room, pulling on his buckskins and began to button up his fine lawn shirt, before stopping after the first button, examining his fingers. Nanny Flora used to tell me that if I stayed in the bath too long, I would turn into a currant. Today, we might have proved that theory correct.
He let out a deep chuckle, and ran his hands through his damp curls, when he felt a shift in the wind and heard a gasp. Darcy turned in shock, and his choked response filled the room. “Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth Bennet never expected to find Mr. Darcy in her aunt’s sitting room. Neither the Mr. Darcy with his customary scowl, or this Mr. Darcy, less than impeccably dressed with his hair tousled, wet from the bath, and a never before
noticed dimple peeking from his left cheek.
“Mr. Darcy…I…how…? I did not suppose to find you here.”
“No. Nor I you.” He cleared his throat and continued to stare. “Excuse, me. Are your parents in good health?”
“Yes, yes. They are. I thank you.”
“And all your sisters?”
“Yes, they are in excellent health.”
The paradox of the situation was not lost on Elizabeth as she glanced down at the floor, trying not to blush before she haltingly began. “Mr. Darcy. Forgive me, but what do you do in my aunt’s room?”
He started. “Your aunt’s room? I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, this room is mine.”
Her cheeks were red as she looked at him as she had never seen him before and her heart beat rapidly. She could not identify the emotion but hoped it was shock and had nothing to do with the fact she could not keep her eyes from the man in his shirt sleeves.
“There must be some mistake, sir. This is most assuredly my aunt’s room,” she said, leveling her eyes with his, attempting to not lower her gaze to his unbuttoned collar. “Your man must have mistakenly entered here. I am certain it was in error.”
“Briggs does not make such mistakes. No, this is my usual accommodation when I stay at Chenowith.”
“My aunt has resided here for the last three nights, and this door connects with my room. I have moved quite freely between these rooms, as you see now.”
She heard an uncharacteristic chuckle, and her spine grew rigid when he replied, “Madame. I do not know how you came to be in my room but you are here. To the chance observer, this puts you in a compromising situation.”
She pulled herself to her highest height, fire shining in her eyes. “Mr. Darcy”—her jaw clenched—“I am unfamiliar with your sense of humor. However, I hope that you are not implying I am the type of woman who would orchestrate…would compromise myself to an honorable man.”
“No, no, Miss Elizabeth. I spoke in jest.”
The Goodness of Men Page 3
