In Search of Happiness

by Nicky Roth

  'My room, Sir?' Darcy stammered in reply, stumbling after the man.

  In all honesty, he had not expected more than a bed above the stables and it was not much more than that he soon discovered; yet at one point someone must have deemed it necessary to divide the draughty space into smaller ones and since then, each lad had his own room, tiny as it was and as thin as the boards were that separated them. In fact, his seemed almost too small to hold the narrow bedstead and the chair atop which sat a battered looking chamberstick with a mere stump of a candle in it. The room was dark, and it did feel slightly claustrophobic, but it was still a welcome sight. The only other furnishings were a small shelf above the foot-end of the bed, a hook to hang his clothes and the inevitable chamber pot.

  Yes, he was tired to the bone, Peters had been right there. The surplus of fresh air, the hard physical labour to which he was not accustomed to and meeting with so many new people had exhausted him and there was still his bed to be made. A couple of bundles of straw and a slight struggle with the sheets later, he at last sank down and his head had hardly hit the pillow that Fitzwilliam Darcy, or rather William Hawthorn was fast asleep.

  When he awoke the next morning, he was at first confused as to where he was and judging from the hustle outside, Darcy almost feared he had overslept. Yet when he stepped out of his room he found that it was only two of the lads bringing up the water for washing while the others, just like himself, still rubbed their tired eyes.

  'Morning Will,' he was greeted by, if he recalled correctly, Jack.

  There were also Charlie, Bob, Henry, and Tom as well as Peters and Johnson the groom, who was not only responsible for the horses but also the other animals on the farm with the exception of the poultry which was under the housekeeper's care. Mr and Mrs Hill, the butler and housekeeper respectively were also two names he had been keen on memorising as well as Smith, the cook, who had indeed been the woman who opened the door for him the previous day. The only other servants were the three maids Martha, Anne and Mary, the footboy John and Leah and Fanny the kitchen maids. All in all, Darcy had to admit that in his townhouse alone there was more staff working at the front of the house than was here altogether.

  Having washed his face in icy cold water, shaved and then cleaned his teeth, Darcy, after quickly making his bed, was hurrying over to the main house to take breakfast. A bowl of nicely cooked porridge and a cup of wonderfully hot tea warmed him amply for his work outdoors and Peters had assured him that there was quite a lot to be done. The rest of the lawn needed taking care of, the driveway needed raking, and the compost heap needed digging, so they could start cultivating the plants for the vegetable garden. But though his muscles ached from the day before, Darcy still looked forward to his chores. Despite the prospect of a strict routine, it still felt like breaking free and also doing something productive, something that his existence in town was greatly lacking. Yes, there was business to be dealt with to be sure, but the time it took to settle his affairs was usually no more than could be achieved in the hours between breakfast and luncheon.

  He did remember hearing the ladies come home at some point during the night, or rather the noise down in the stables from the carriage and horses being taken care of and hence was more than surprised to come face to face with one of them. The cheeky little imp no less, already up and taking a walk just when he had raked but a few square feet of the driveway, starting there since a slight frost as yet kept him from the lawn.

  'Good morning,' she greeted cheerfully. 'I see you have taken my advice.'

  Bowing deeply, Darcy replied: 'Good morning, Miss. Yes, I have, as you can see.'

  'And as you can see, my advice was not wholly without self-interest,' she replied with a smile, her dark eyes dancing with amusement.

  'You like your garden well-tended then?'

  She appeared thoughtful for a moment before answering with mock earnest: 'To an extent. I take delight in nature and a garden, though artificial in itself, is still a pleasure to walk in.'

  'But you prefer to stray beyond?'

  It was not so much of a question than a statement, for he was pretty sure of her answer.

  'Yes.'

  'All on your own?'

  'Obviously.'

  'Is there no danger in that?'

  Darcy was not all that certain how he would feel about his own sister rambling around the country all by herself. Not that it was any of his business. As a matter of fact, he was quite surprised that the conversation extended beyond a polite but curt “good morning”. Again, something that would never have happened in London.

  'What is ever wholly without danger?' she countered, raising an eyebrow. 'From the moment we learn to walk, we are bound to take a fall once in a while, no horse is ever so docile that it might not rear when scared and turn a carriage upside down in the process. Where there is tea and a lively group of people, one might easily scald oneself... - Shall I continue with my examples?'

  'No, you've made your point, Miss.'

  'Well, then I will leave you to your work since I see Peters approaching and continue my walk. - Good morning, Peters!'

  ''morning, Miss Elizabeth,' the gardener replied, waving his hand in greeting while in his other he likewise held a rake.

  'Lovely lass, that, but they all are. Only Miss Mary is perhaps a little too severe, but then again, we are spoilt. The chap you've worked for, Mr Darcy, is he a married man?'

  'No, but he has a sister. As yet a slip of a girl but as pretty as they come and as kind, though she wouldn't speak to us, of course,' Darcy tried to dance around the subject and thankfully succeeded.

  'Ah, our Miss Bennets have no such scruples, I assure you. Always a greeting and a kind word, well often more, and Mrs Bennet is no different. It can be rather trying to get things done when she is around, for she likes a good chat.'

  Or rather milk her servants for the latest gossip, Darcy thought with a grin. Again his aunt came to mind, much to his other aunt's disapproval and her own husband's chagrin.

  'And Mr Darcy himself, was he a good master?'

  Now that was a question most difficult to answer...

  'I would think so. He knows his servants by name and he makes a point of never raising his voice to them or make demands for unreasonable things.'

  'Then he is better than most, I'd say. But I tell you something, the established gentry is never so bad as those who only recently joined society – with the exception of the Lucases of course, they are mightily good people. My niece works for them, you know? And she has nothing but praise when it comes to her masters. I would be very surprised if we don't see the Miss Lucases today, for after a ball the ladies always meet up for a good gossip.'

  'As they do everywhere, I'd say.'

  'Quite so. Well, you made some headway already. There is definitely no need to scold you for chatting too much and not getting anything done. Good-good! Just let me give you some advice, you don't need to prove anything, and unless you are intending to tire yourself out by noon, rather work slow but steadily instead of rushing things. You know, slow but steady wins the race as the saying goes.'

  Now, this advice was a sound one and Darcy gladly took it. Furthermore, it was advice to stick to in the future beyond his little journey since the effect was a rather surprising one. For where before the amount of work he still had ahead of him seemed quite daunting, now he rather saw what he had already achieved and that was more than he had initially thought. In what seemed like no time at all, the driveway was done, and at least part of the lawn was now devoid of frost and ready to be dealt with. And once again, when it was time for lunch, they had gotten further than Darcy had anticipated. It was almost like magic. And at any rate, his stomach was grumbling.

  Chapter 8

  To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.

  - Phyllis Theroux

  To his own surprise, the first week passed by in the blink of an eye and with some surprise, he realised, th
at he had not as of yet written to either his cousin or sister, let alone Bingley. However, every night he had been exhausted to an extent that all he did was wash, get undressed and fall into bed after yet another day of hard physical labour. Not so tonight. By the dim light of the stump in his chamberstick, Darcy made himself comfortable on his bed tucked his feet underneath him and began to write a letter, first to Georgiana.

  My dearest sister,

  you must have been quite surprised when I last wrote to you at hearing that I will go on a journey. - Me, of all people, who cherishes nothing more than the comfort of my own hearth and a good book! Yet, that is exactly what I have done and at present, I am located in Hertfordshire in a little village about a mile from a small town called Meryton. I am staying and working at an estate called Longbourn, where I have taken up a position as a gardener - or rather an under-gardener, for obviously there is yet a lot for me to learn about gardening.

  Yes, you did read that correctly. What must you think now?

  Presumably, you wonder whether your brother has lost his mind or something along those lines, but let me assure you that this is not the case. As the Season progressed and I was confronted time and time again with all its pathetic pretence, I realised that I was turning bitter and disillusioned and as a consequence decided that a change of perspective might be in order, so that at last I can appreciate what I have and how things are after I have come to know a life that is so very different from our own privileged situation. Though oddly enough at present it is doing rather the opposite for I am enjoying my time here quite a lot, and you might even see it in my style of writing, that some of that severity that has defined me for so long is waning.

  The people here are of a good sort, friendly, caring, and cheerful and I like them prodigiously. And these traits do not only apply to the other servants but also extend to the family itself. There is always a friendly 'good morning' to be had, an encouraging smile and an inquiry as to one's well-being, sometimes even a little chit-chat about this or that.

  Mr Bennet, the proprietor of Longbourn, is a calm gentleman with a sense of sarcastic humour that can confuse people at times, but he always delivers his jokes with a twinkle in his eyes, that makes them easy to digest even if the joke had been at one's own expense. His wife, on the other hand, is an exuberant woman who likes to meddle, it would seem. Though somehow her ambitions seem different from that of the mother's in town who care only for money and prestige and not so much about what their daughters might feel. There is a real concern in her that her five girls might be happy. I would be lying if I claimed that she was oblivious as to income and position in life, but should ever the situation arise that one of her daughters has to choose between a man worth a thousand, who might make her child happy and a man of ten times his worth who would not, she would not encourage the girl to take the latter, I am sure. That is saying something, for Peters who is the head gardener has told me that the estate is entailed and there are no male heirs, only said young ladies. It is a situation which must weigh heavily on the family. But as yet there is no reason to assume that the worst is yet to happen, for Mr Bennet, though past his prime, is still a sturdy, if perhaps a little indolent fellow.

  As said, there are five girls here, the youngest about your own age and the eldest around two and twenty, and I will describe them to you, for I know that you must be curious. You always are, dear sister, and I will fully oblige.

  Miss Bennet is such a stunning beauty that you would have difficulty even finding such in town. She is also calm and gentle with a keen sense of propriety yet without the slightest trace of arrogance, thus as lovely on the inside as she is in her looks.

  Miss Elizabeth is also very pretty, and just as witty and quick as any girl I have ever met with. Objectively she might not be as handsome as her older sister, but she has the most beautiful eyes I have ever beheld. It is her who suggested that I take up this position. Now, having written this, I realise that I have to elaborate a little. When I first left London, I changed into my now rather shabby looking self in the privacy of my carriage, and then rambled off shortly thereafter. We had passed Barnett when I alighted. Quite unexpectedly I met with a young lady who sat on a stile enjoying the first rays of sunlight this year, and since I did not know where I was then, I dared ask her. Contrary to what I had expected, she answered me nicely and mentioned that perhaps I might want to inquire at Longbourn House, for there was a vacancy for a gardener there, and I thought to myself, that I probably should. I did not know then, that she was one of the daughters of the house, so you can imagine my surprise when I found out. She, too, is very kind and friendly and universally liked by all the staff, just as Miss Bennet is.

  Now, Miss Mary Bennet is the unfortunate sister who has not been blessed with the good looks of her older sisters, and she has taken to perfect her accomplishments with such a zeal that she does appear rather fastidious, stern even. I cannot say much more about her, for she hardly ever ventures out, but most mornings I can hear her practising the pianoforte for hours on end while at the same time obviously lacking the passion required to play any real music. Without wanting to sound ungracious, but even when you had only just started it was so much more of a delight to listen to you, for you actually enjoyed the art for itself and not because it was a required accomplishment for a true lady. Do not ever lose your delight in it, Georgiana, I beg you! It would break my heart.

  As for the two youngest, for they almost always come as a pair, they are two boisterous creatures, but good at heart I dare say. Miss Lydia, the youngest is almost wild, while Miss Catherine is a little more sedate. They appear to be always up to some kind of mischief, giggling and sticking their heads together all day long. Miss Lydia at fourteen is the only one not yet out, though I have heard from Mrs Hill, the housekeeper, that soon she will be. I guess it is more to avoid the almost daily struggle with keeping her in check when she, once more, is to stay behind while the others are going out, but with my limited knowledge of the family as yet, I might as well be mistaken there. They are all, with the exception of the father and Miss Mary, very sociable creatures and it might be this consideration that has led her parents to decide to bring her out. Besides, it hardly promotes sisterly affection if she is the only one denied the enjoyments of her sisters.

  But for now, that shall be enough of my situation at present. How are you faring, my sweetling? Your last letter had me concerned, my dear, and I hope you are feeling better by now. A cold is unpleasant at the best of times, but to hear that you had to stay in bed for so many days together still worried me greatly. You are not still coughing, are you? If so, please let our cousin know, and he will see that a doctor is sent from town straight away. I will not have you suffer, little darling, for want of proper attention. If there is anything I can do, let me know likewise, though my possibilities at present are limited. Just know that I am always there for you.

  And with that, I shall close my missive for it is getting late and my candle is almost burnt down, only about a quarter of an hour more and I will be left in darkness to finally go to sleep. Something I am looking very much forward to, as you can imagine, with all the physical work I do these days.

  Your most affectionate brother

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  P.S.: You will obviously have to address your letters to me to one William Hawthorn for the time being and have them send to the inn at Meryton for me to collect them. F.D.

  Folding the letter, Darcy sighed. He did miss his sister, and did worry about her. Ever since she had been at school, she had suffered from homesickness filling his conscience with guilt, while at the same time he knew very well that there was little to avoid this. To receive an excellent education was of the utmost importance, and he would be a fool if he did not provide her with one; and while her governess had done as good a job as any governess he had ever heard of, only a seminary could teach a girl real social-skills, all the more important since his sister was a very shy and timid creature. Well, just as
shy and timid as himself. No, there was no other way, she needed to be amongst other girls her age, even if it meant she had to struggle on occasion. It would be a lesson that later on in life she would be grateful for, and that had to be his consolation for now.

  Reaching for yet another sheet of paper, he began writing yet another letter, this time to his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam:

  Dear Fitzwilliam,

  I sincerely apologise for the delay in relaying to you my whereabouts, but time has flown by so fast, I am surprised that it is a week already since I left London for my little adventure and I have to say, I am quite comfortable here at Longbourn House in Hertfordshire, where I have taken up employment as an under-gardener.

  Yes, as an under-gardener. You surely must think me mad, but rest assured, I have never been saner than I am at present. There are some things a man has to do and I guess this is what I had to do in order to see more clearly. There is not much more to say other than that I am well and am treated kindly and am actually quite enjoying myself.

  The quarters are comfortable, the work manageable and the people are all friendliness and kindness without exception. Many a family could learn a thing or two when it comes to being a kind and fair master or mistress from my current employers, I assure you.