MR. DARCY'S FIRST ELIZABETH

by John Edwards

  She gathered what possessions she still had and made her way to the church where she found the grave of her last living relative. There she sank in grief and tried to calm her heart. After a few minutes she felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up into the eyes of an elderly woman who asked her, softly.

  “My dear, are you related to Mr. Emerson?”

  “Yes, he was my uncle, my mother’s brother. I have recently arrived from Brandywine and then learned that my uncle had died. Did you know him?”

  “Yes, he was a good man and a regular at church. My word, she asked pensively, you look quite ill. Did you hit your head when you fell on the grave? You have a cut across your forehead and a big bruise.”

  “As I was walking here from my uncle’s home I was attacked and robbed of everything of value that I have carried. I was hurt and knocked unconscious for a few minutes but I was not abused any further.”

  “Well, thank God for that. You must come with me for I cannot call myself a Christian if I cannot help you. You have nobody else you know of in town or about these parts?”

  “No, I have left my home because my father died recently and the estate was entailed to his cousin and I have been turned out by he and his wife.”

  “What is your name, my child, as I am Roberta Watson.”

  “I am Elizabeth Watkins. I am thankful to meet you.”

  “Have you been traveling all day?”

  “Yes, from early this morning, and now it is getting dark. I left from Brandywine at near seven this morning.”

  “Yes, then you shall come to my home and stay the night and let me tend to your cut and provide food to you. I live alone not two hundred yards from where you now stand. My best friend, my husband, died just months ago so you shall have a bedroom of your own. You shall be safe there, Miss Watkins.”

  Elizabeth thanked Mrs. Watson and they walked together to her home in the center of the town. The home was a smallish white cottage. The rooms were larger than what one believed when outside the home. Still, it was quite pleasing and looked to be well appointed and was clean.

  “Have a seat Miss Watkins, but first let me help you with the cut over your forehead?”

  She used a towel with warm water to cleanse the wound and wash and dry up Elizabeth’s face.

  Elizabeth was given her tour to familiarize herself with the home and Mrs. Watson went to work on the supper while Elizabeth freshened up.

  When Elizabeth entered the small dining room she was well rested and looked happy. “Is there anything I can do Mrs. Watson?”

  “No, my dear, just eat and drink well and pay no mind to your troubles today. Tomorrow will be much better.”

  “This is Brunswick stew, it is delicious and so is the cornbread. I am so thankful to you.”

  “You may have what you want, there is much more in the kettle. It has been slow cooking in the large kettle there for a long time, but do save some room for bread pudding.”

  “That I shall, thank you again.”

  There were few words spoken at the table, but soon the meal was completed and Elizabeth insisted to help with the clean up but asked to follow her host’s ways of performing that task, being careful not to offend her after such hospitality had been shown.

  The two then retired to the formal room where they talked. Mrs. Watson let Elizabeth do most of the talking but offered to tell Elizabeth as much as she could about the town of Wakefield. Questions and answers were being exchanged and the women immediately formed a bond together, then Elizabeth felt a cat jump up beside her and look her over.

  “Why Miss Watkins, I hope you are not afraid of cats. This gentleman is Mr. Rascal, and I have had him for nearly three years, and he is a house cat and is proud of his position. He used to follow my husband wherever he would go. I have to tell you, Rascal loved the man.”

  “I do like cats. Rascal is beautiful, and his markings are as consistent as if they were painted. Why, he sits there like he is dressed in his Sunday finest. The gray and black tabby has always been a favorite of mine, but look, his underside shows light orange and white under clothes. If you do not object, I should like to pet him.”

  No sooner had those words escaped her mouth but Rascal softly toed her lap and made a bed for himself there. Elizabeth petted him and commented on the softness of his fur, and they talked about many other things.

  “Miss Watkins, we can talk further tomorrow once you have rested. I hope to help you find your way, and that I shall discuss with you. There are opportunities I know of for a single woman like yourself, but for now, you have only to go to bed when you feel the need and satisfy yourself that everything will turn out fine. Goodnight Elizabeth, and I hope you will not mind me using that name.”

  “Goodnight Mrs. Watson. I am happy with that. Thank you for all you have done.”

  Mrs. Watson was a slight woman but as friendly as could be asked for. Her manners were engaging and she appeared very wise and Elizabeth thought that she must have many friends. That night she said her prayers for Mrs. Watson and Mr. Winstead and asked God to look out for her as she began her new life. Though Elizabeth could have thought of many things as she went to bed, sleep visited her early.

  CHAPTER 2

  ELIZABETH IS PLEASED

  Elizabeth awoke to the smell of coffee and ham and was startled to find that Rascal had laid upon her bed. As she yawned and stretched her limbs, she caught the cat doing the same, but Rascal would get on all fours and stretch out his front legs while arching his head forward and his rear up in the air. Elizabeth thought this a crude beginning for her first morning but silently laughed at the sight of Rascal’s crude stretching. Then she recalled a slight thump in the night as the cat had jumped onto the bed and she felt the little feet walking across her coverlet until a warm nudge settled against her back side. Most likely, she probably had slept that way most of the night, with her new friend, Rascal, staying guard.

  As she gathered herself she went to the window and caught a glimpse of a beautiful spring day. Gone was the gloomy weather she had experienced for the whole of the previous week, starting with the death of her father. The gloom and sadness of yesterday was now behind her, and she would continue as best she could. Mrs. Watson noticed Elizabeth was awake and greeted her with a broad smile. “I do believe you shall have a grand day Elizabeth, but first, did you sleep well?”

  “Mrs. Watson, I slept better last night than I have in many months. I am quite indebted to you for your hospitality.”

  “Well, I have breakfast waiting and when you are ready we can sit down. You may have concluded I have coffee with my breakfast, but I can make you tea if you would like.”

  “That will not be necessary, the coffee would be quite welcome, but Mrs. Watson, I do not wish to take advantage of your kindness by extending my stay, you must have other things you must do and I need to look to find a means to support myself.”

  “Elizabeth, you will stay here and we, together, will evaluate all opportunities that may be suitable to a young woman such as yourself. I should like to discuss things with you this morning and later as we take a turn about Wakefield. You may find our village a rather friendly place to live for the present.”

  Elizabeth asked several questions about Wakefield and Mrs. Watson spent several minutes describing the region and the people, as well as other things of general interest.

  “Now Elizabeth, I ask that you consider that you are visiting this place on a holiday as my guest and that you wish to get acquainted with the people and these beautiful surroundings. You do not need to put undue pressure on yourself, things will work out fine. Besides, I am so enjoying having you as my guest, for I never had children of my own, so your stay with me is very enjoyable.”

  “That is very kind of you Mrs. Watson.”

  The two had breakfast together and Elizabeth found Mrs. Watson to be a very caring woman whom she believed was very articulate, wise and quite smart in matters of life, and she would give Elizabeth answers to all her qu
estions about the area of Wakefield and its people. Mrs. Watson said that her late husband and her had both worked at a great estate some ten miles from Wakefield. She had been the principle housekeeper and her husband the chief steward to the owner, the late Charles Brightsome. Mrs. Watson described the estate as Thayer Manor, and to her, it was the grandest in all the land. She and her husband and Rascal, as well as a large staff, lived together in that great manor. Elizabeth had noticed on her journey some grand homes in the distance but only caught a glimpse of them as the coach moved too fast.

  “Yes, Elizabeth, Mr. Brightsome, when he passed in June last year, left this house to my husband and me and he also included all furnishings plus a comfortable living. He knew I was from Wakefield and how fond I was of the village and that I favored a little cottage, but I had no idea that he would do this. Not a week after he had passed, his attorney came to us and told us of the arrangements that Mr. Brightsome had made. You see, Elizabeth, God has been very good to me.”

  The two started their walk about the village after breakfast and the sun fully worked giving all it could to warm the air. The conversations were friendly and informative and Elizabeth was happier than she had been for many months. Whether it was the warm spring day or the start of her new life or her meeting this wonderful and kind woman, or maybe all these things together, Elizabeth was thankful for her situation and for her new friend who had been so kind to her.

  Soon a gentleman came up to them, “Good morning Mrs. Watson, how are things with you today?”

  “Why I am fine Mr. Reynolds, and let me introduce you to Miss Watkins. She is on a visit and is currently staying with me. Elizabeth, this gentleman is my friend and is Mr. Brightsome’s attorney.”

  “I am pleased to meet you sir.” Not a bad start, but he appears to be on the backside of thirty. She wanted to laugh as she recalled her discussions earlier with another gentleman.

  “No, Miss Watkins, it is my pleasure. I hope, Mrs. Watson, that Elizabeth will be in town for some time and that I will have an opportunity to see you both again soon. Now I ask you to excuse me.”

  After he left, Mrs. Watson told Elizabeth that he was a widower of near seven and thirty years, and he lived in town with two children, his wife having died two years earlier during childbirth. “Mr. Reynolds is quite well respected in these parts, Elizabeth. Word is out that he is looking to marry. I guess it is hard on him since his wife’s passing left him alone with two young children.”

  “Surely he has someone helping with his children, what are their ages?”

  “Yes, I believe the boy is near seven and the girl about four, but there is an older woman who is a governess for the children. Still, he is on the lookout for a wife.”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth replied, “I hope he soon finds himself a good wife.”

  “So Elizabeth, are you very well acquainted with children?”

  “Mrs. Watson, are you inquiring if I would consider myself as a candidate to be Mr. Reynolds’ next wife?”

  “No, Elizabeth, though I can understand why you would think that. There is another reason for my question.”

  “Then I shall reply that yes, I like children very much. I had a good friend that was a governess of a young child and I often visited her. My friend’s ward was a girl of eight years young and sometimes I would help teach her how to play the pianoforte and teach her French. My friend left that position but two years ago to be married.”

  “Then, do you suppose you would consider applying for a similar position here in Wakefield, for I know a family that is looking to hire a governess for their daughter and son? Before you answer me, let me advise you that the position would not be a permanent one.”

  “Why is this, Mrs. Watson?”

  “Well, can you not think why? It is because your friend left her job to marry and so did the previous governess of Kimblehouse. She was married only last week. So you see, Elizabeth, soon you will also find suitors clamoring at your door, for a prettier girl does not exist in these parts.”

  “You are too kind, but is Kimblehouse near here Mrs. Watson?”

  “Yes, we can visit the house this afternoon, if you like. I feel confident you will impress its mistress, Mrs. Louisa Kimble. Her daughter is but seven years, and she has a younger brother who is five years, and except for a switch in genders, the children are of a similar age as Mr. Reynolds’ children.”

  “I would be grateful to you, Mrs. Watson, I feel I should be a very good governess.”

  Mrs. Watson told Elizabeth about the family, that they were very wealthy and that the village of Wakefield owed much of its prosperity to that family. Further, she mentioned that the Kimbles entertained often and visited other friends of their same class. She said she knew them from when she had worked for Mr. Brightsome, and that they were very kind.

  Mrs. Watson mentioned that the former governess for the Kimbles had a nicely appointed room with a grand view overlooking the village. Then she mentioned other advantages to the position, including extended holidays both to London and to other destinations. Mrs. Kimble particularly enjoyed visiting the coast during the summer. After resting some and having a light lunch, Mrs. Watson and Elizabeth started their walk up the long road on the hill overlooking Wakefield. The view was exquisite and Elizabeth kept turning to see the village below and the ridge line beyond, for in all quarters, the view was splendid. Mrs. Watson pointed out a distant peak as protecting Thayer Manor, the estate she had been housekeeper of. She also pointed out several other estates and one, in particular, which she described as owned my another of Mr. Kimble’s friends.

  Elizabeth was taken back at the beauty of the region and all the magnificent homes that dotted the landscape and asked Mrs. Watson how all these folks got to be so wealthy.

  “Why, Elizabeth, most of them are of the landed gentry. Their estates have been inherited and they have tenants who farm their land and pay rent.”

  “I do understand that Mrs. Watson, my father had a small manor but not nearly as much land. These homes are enormous and the lands are quite extensive.”

  “Yes, that is so. Most of the owners do stay to themselves but Mr. Kimble is a friendly and kind man, as are his friends, though I have heard that one of his friends is presently having difficulties with his estate, that one behind you, there on that distant peak. It is called Hunting Hills and it is also very grand.”

  The two soon made their way to the circular drive that fronted the grand house and saw the door open and soon a lady came outside.

  “Mrs. Watson, how good it is to see you, and your friend as well, that is, I just have a feeling this woman is a friend of yours.”

  “Yes, I am Elizabeth Watkins, and Mrs. Watson is my new friend. I am happy to meet you Mrs. Kimble.”

  “Won’t you please come with me and let us have some tea. It is so pleasant now so we can take our tea outside.”

  She rang for tea and finally they were at the back of the grand home looking over beautiful gardens and a lawn so manicured that a king would be jealous. Elizabeth nearly lost her breath. “Oh, the vistas, this is absolutely beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Miss Watkins. We do not own all that you see, but we are happy here. It does take time to manage. Many folks see us as the landed gentry with no need to work at all, but let me assure you, there is work to do everyday. Then, of course, there are the children. Mrs. Watson may have told you that our governess was recently married and we are looking for another.”

  “Yes, I was telling Miss Watkins that you are searching for a governess.”

  “We are, but we have not decided to take any that we have met.”

  “That is the reason we have come. She is new to our area and had arrived only yesterday to visit her uncle, Benjamin Emerson, not knowing that he had died. So she has decided to make a new start of it. Presently she is staying with me, and though I should like to have her remain in my house, she is interested in applying for the position you have open.”

  With that, the discus
sions continued. Mrs. Kimble let Elizabeth do her share of the talking and only a few times did Mrs. Watson venture to say anything. Mrs. Kimble was not yet eight and twenty, with two small children. She was impressed with Elizabeth’s manors and her sweetness and knew right away her children would like her very much, for she did herself. Elizabeth was very lovely and soft spoken, and well read and genuinely smart and could teach her children to play the pianoforte and sing and many other things. There was only one thing left; she wanted to get her husband’s blessing.