by Nicky Roth
It was only for the shortest of moments that she thought about how good a dancer William might be, or rather if he could dance at all before she pushed the thought far to the back of her mind. He had haunted her thoughts enough for one day already.
And at any rate, Jane carried on with some concern: 'Mother is determined to allow Lydia to come along with the rest of us.'
It came as no surprise. Of late their parents had often discussed the topic if it could be deemed as such. A discussion that was, for it was more that her mother had already ruled that her youngest daughter should, while their father had neither objected nor seemed to agree. In short, the matter was already decided in favour of Lydia who would finally come out, just as she had wished since the day Mary had her own reluctant coming out two years prior and all but insisted upon since Kitty had done so last year.
Elizabeth was not all that certain about the decision, but if their father did not openly object, there was no point arguing. And there was hope yet, that Lydia would outgrow her boisterousness eventually, though presumably not within a mere fortnight.
Linking her arm with that of her sister they strolled towards the entrance and into the usual hubbub of the house.
Her mother was indeed in a flutter. All excitement, already busy planning what they would wear, which colour of shoe-roses would suit them best and with whom they might all dance, even though the event itself was still more than two weeks away. It was rather surprising that she did not order her daughters upstairs to get themselves ready immediately. And in a sense she did, for tonight they were to attend an evening of cards at their aunt's in Meryton. An amusement that had only been decided on this very day, when they had visited Mrs Phillips and Lydia had complained about being bored out of her wits and having nothing to distract her. Their mother's sister, always desperate for society herself, had immediately obliged her youngest niece by planning the diversion necessary to keep her happy and thus they had returned home with their aunt's informal invitation.
It would be not much more than a family affair and yet no sooner had Mrs Bennet voiced her excitement about the upcoming ball which lasted well beyond a quarter of an hour, when she ushered them to their respective rooms to get changed. Kitty and Lydia followed her order with zeal, Mary rather grumbling and Jane and Elizabeth with compliance. Their father would not attend as was his habit. Reading quietly in the library was more to his taste.
'Is it ungracious of me to lament that we are forever meeting with the same people?' Elizabeth asked when she had joined Jane to help her with her hair for want of a maid.
'Not necessarily,' Jane replied thoughtfully. 'It is only natural that we wish for some variation, I think. But there is some comfort in knowing exactly what to expect when entering a dining parlour or ballroom.'
'That is most certainly true. But eventually we will have to find husbands and as yet, there are none in sight, I fear.'
'There are quite a few eligible young men here, Lizzy.'
'Is that so?' Elizabeth replied archly. 'And whom would you choose? Not that we put our hopes on the same man.'
'You know what I mean, Lizzy.'
'So you conjecture that there are theoretically a few eligible men around, but not practically. How unfortunate!'
Again her mind strayed towards William. But no, that once again was nothing but nonsensical. It could never be and she knew it. She would guard herself against such ridiculous notions in the future. And it was not that he had shown the slightest interest in her anyway. He knew his station, and so should she.
Elizabeth carefully braided her sister's hair and pinned it in place, marvelling over Jane's beauty instead. Jane was beautiful. She was also the kindest creature ever to tread the earth. Wherever she went, men were bound to be charmed by her, and rightfully so. It showed they had good taste.
She grinned wryly catching her sister's eyes in the mirror.
'What is it, Lizzy?'
'Oh, nothing. I just thought that any man not worshipping you must be a fool.'
'I would rather have a man love me dearly,' was Jane's earnest reply, accompanied by a small sigh.
'And if the right one comes along, he sure will. He is bound to, you know? But for now, worship will have to do, I fear.'
Jane blushed slightly, the colour on her cheeks making her look even prettier than she was anyway, before beckoning Elizabeth to sit and have her take care of her hair in turn. It was a ritual frequently repeated.
Chapter 12
No man will be found in whose mind airy notions do not sometimes tyrannize, and force him to hope or fear beyond the limits of sober probability.
- Samuel Johnson
Taking a deep breath, Darcy put down the bundle of twigs, carefully avoiding the sharp spines. Even though he was well protected he still had managed to prick himself a couple of times. But his mind had strayed towards a lovely pair of bright eyes. A silly notion, he was well aware of it. But Elizabeth Bennet's curious glances earlier in the day had unsettled him. Did she suspect anything? He would not put it past her. She was, after all, a very intelligent creature and he was not the best of actors.
Pushing all thought of her magnificent eyes aside, Darcy began to stack the branches into a neat pile, covered them with some dry leaves he had raked up earlier in the day and then set fire to the heap just as he had been ordered. Something caught his eye amongst the remaining leaves and it made him smile. Curled up fearfully, but beginning to peak out its nose, was a hedgehog.
'You seem in a good mood, William,' Peters remarked as he stepped up to him. 'And I see you're done already. You know, with every other man I would ask myself whether he had done his task properly, but you can take it as a compliment that I don't need to ask you.'
'I thank you, Sir,' Darcy grinned, pointing at the little creature now scrambling away into the underbrush.
'Ah, our little friends. I like them. They take good care of the vermin,' Peters shrugged unconcernedly, his face a little tense.
'Is something the matter, Sir?'
'You cannot, by chance, drive a carriage? It's only a pair you'd have to handle.'
Whatever he had expected, this was most certainly not it.
'I can, Sir.'
'And harness a horse?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Very good, William. Then make haste and get into a livery, will you? Johnson is tied up and so are the boys. Blasted creatures to be calving and foaling all at the same time. The whole stable is in confusion, let me warn you.'
Well, Darcy knew that phenomenon all too well. Even though Pemberley had an abundance of resources at hand, it could still, on occasion, lead to situations such as these, and by now he knew Johnson well enough to know that he would not leave his more pressing responsibilities here in order to convey his master and mistress to somewhere. Not if it could be avoided, that was. After all, a handsome sum of money was involved.
He left Peters, who was not very good with animals, according to his own admittance, at the fire and hurried over to the stables. Peters had not exaggerated. The mare was doing fine, but the cow was a young creature having her first calf and she was in a frenzy, hard to manage and having difficulties.
'Livery?' Darcy asked, keeping it curt.
Henry pointed at the saddle chamber, or rather the small closet beyond. He only hoped he would find a set that would fit him and was in luck. Changing quickly, he then pulled one of the smocks over his head so as to not soil himself while cleaning the horses and set to work.
Without help, it took him the better part of an hour, but at last, the beasts were gleaming in the fading sunlight and since he had little time left, he only dashed over to the kitchen shortly for something to eat before scurrying over again and start harnessing. It had been a while since he had done so himself, but he still managed. And none too soon, for Darcy had barely tightened the last strap, that he got notice from Hill that the carriage was awaited.
He climbed onto the box, and remembering at the last minute that
he was still sporting the raggedy smock, he pulled it over his head and pushed it under his seat before taking the reins and edging on the horses.
In a joyful scramble, save for Miss Mary, the six ladies of Longbourn piled out of the house and Darcy had barely time to jump from his seat to open the door before Lydia, all eagerness could have done so. She was so full of excitement that it made him smile and think of Georgiana. If only she could ever be so joyous and carefree...
Extending his hand, he helped the ladies into the chaise, earning once again a quizzical glance from Miss Elizabeth, yet she said nothing. She looked absolutely breathtaking and his heart did a little somersault. Oh dear, that was not good at all. He could not possibly... - No, that was silly!
But then again, he had suspected it for a while now. From the moment that he had caught himself hoping she would step out and cross his path as he was working away in the garden a couple of days since. Yet, he had thought nothing of it at the time, but now that he knew what it probably meant, it confused him. He had never fallen in love before, had always been too cautious about such a foolish sentiment, but he had come here to find himself and consequently let his guard down. It seemed that his little adventure came at a price after all.
With some trepidation, Darcy climbed back onto his seat and drove off towards Meryton. At least he knew where he was going from their morning's walk. That was something to be thankful for. It saved him from the embarrassment of having to ask the way.
The Phillips' lived on the High Street of Meryton, just opposite the small circulating library and only a stone's throw away from the milliner's and the inn where he had posted his letters. It was a comfortable looking place, though by no means grand and it clearly showed that the people within were of the occupational kind. Mr Phillips, it appeared, was an attorney. A perfectly respectable profession.
Again he helped the ladies, this time out of the carriage, and when Elizabeth smiled at him in gratitude it was even more unsettling than her scrutiny. The blush that crept over her face was most becoming and confusingly titillating and once more his heart did a somersault and beat just a little faster.
Instead of pondering, however, he took care of the horses, which for want of a stable had to be left on the street and settled himself on the box trying to make himself as comfortable as was possible. There was nothing much to do other than to stretch out and wait and Darcy dearly wished he had a book or at least a paper to read to occupy himself while waiting. But no sooner had he thought the same when his boredom was relieved in the form of a maid stepping out of the Phillips' house, handing him a pitcher of ale, a mug, a couple of sandwiches and just that, a book.
Shakespeare, he noted with some amusement. Not exactly a work that most servants would appreciate, and even he preferred the other works of the bard to “Richard III”. But alas, it had also been the winter of his discontent, in both its literal meaning as well as manner of speaking, so perhaps it was quite fitting. He ate one of the sandwiches, poured himself a drink and began to read.
Soon engrossed in the drama unfolding on the pages, Darcy suddenly became aware of someone watching him. At first, it had been nothing but an inkling, until it grew to an almost unsettling feeling and at long last, he turned. There was no-one there. Of course not, what had he been thinking? But when he turned around again, he became aware of the dainty figure standing in the window, half hidden by the curtain, and he knew he had not been imagining things after all. He was being watched, and closely. Watched by none other than Elizabeth Bennet. As if caught she suddenly disappeared and for the remainder of the evening, she did not approach that window again.
Only when the party finally left, did he see her once more, and it was with some feeling of conscience that he noticed that she avoided his gaze. Odd little creature!
Chapter 13
You can always tell about somebody by the way they put their hands on an animal.
- Betty White
He had gone to bed late, naturally, for when Darcy returned home, the chaos in the stables had by no means subsided. If anything, it had gotten worse and by the looks of both Henry and Tom at breakfast later on, it was a safe to assume that they had had barely any sleep at all. There had been no alternative but that he had to unhitch the horses on his own, just as he had hitched them a few hours prior. He rubbed them down and led them to their box and was then sent to bed while his comrades still toiled away. But at last their efforts had paid off and all creatures large and small were well.
Darcy was up at first light, long before the others even stirred and it was hard to resist peeking into the stable to take a look at the new arrivals. There was nothing as comforting as the smell of horses anyway; or the gentle neighing as if they greeted their visitor; or to see the little ones standing on shaky legs for the first time yet determined to walk within the hour.
The foal was already standing proudly at her mother's side when he entered. It looked at him almost curiously and still a little shyly, yet when he reached out his hand, it did not back away but let him caress its soft fur.
'So you know how to handle animals as well, I see,' he suddenly heard a soft voice behind him and wheeled around.
In the shadows though illuminated by the still dim light streaming through the stable door in which she stood, he saw none other than Elizabeth Bennet, dressed up for one of her walks despite the early hour. She looked a little ruffled as if she had not slept at all, or if, not very well.
'Yes. They are companionable creatures and they don't judge you, no matter how grumpy you are.'
'Very true. Though I have to admit that their size is quite intimidating. Our horses, I have been told, are all gentle creatures, and still, they have such strength that I always feel comparatively small and powerless. And besides, to rein in such a proud creature is almost a shame, is it not? - As you can see, I am no horsewomen, William,' she remarked challengingly.
He startled at her confession, then smiled.
'I venture to say that the idea is more to emphasise said strength instead of reining it in, to control it to a certain degree and to be controlled in turn. A good rider knows his beast and it knows him and it is only with mutual understanding that it'll do anything you ask of it, Miss Elizabeth. I've had horses...'
He stopped, biting his tongue. He had almost given himself away.
'I've had horses to deal with that didn't trust me and the result were several nasty bruises that clearly told me they would tolerate no further attempt on my side to rein them in.'
'I was not aware that it is the work of a gardener to handle horses.'
'I've never claimed I was a gardener before I came here to work as such, Miss Elizabeth,' Darcy remarked carefully while cursing himself for his carelessness.
'No you did not,' she replied, thoughtful once again, stepping closer to where he stood his hand still caressing the tiny horse that seemed to quite enjoy his gentle ministrations.
'They are the cutest things when they are little,' she added after a while, tentatively stretching out her hand likewise. She wore no gloves.
It was such a gentle gesture that he almost envied the foal.
Good gracious, he had been here little more then a week, feeling nothing but at ease and the first thing he had to do was the one thing he had always tried to avoid if he possibly could. - Be thoroughly taken by a woman, charmed to a point where reason was threatened by something more primaeval, something dangerous. Something that was bound to put an end to his peace of mind.
'I need to get going,' Darcy all but pressed out from between his teeth, more fiercely than he had intended.
But fortunately, it was perfectly true. Well, almost. He was the first one up and still, he had to get over to the house, break his fast and then once again work was waiting for him. It was some consolation if there was any to be had.
At seeing two pails on the rim of the well next to the kitchen door, he pumped some water and stepped into Smith's very own kingdom careful not to spill the almost ov
erflowing buckets onto the freshly swept floor.
'Good morning, William,' he was greeted by the cook. 'You are up early.'
'I couldn't sleep. Where do you want the water?'
'The hob, if you please. Leah has sprained her ankle and is good for nothing,' she informed him with a sigh. 'Well, at least she can peel the potatoes, so I guess it could have been worse. But Fanny is running around like a headless chicken.'
