In Search of Happiness

by Nicky Roth

  And indeed, no sooner were the words spoken when Fanny stepped from the scullery into the kitchen bearing a basket of coals and looking positively panicked. If he remembered correctly it was washday. The girl's concern thus was well founded. Endless buckets of water had to be carried in and out of the laundry, hot, cold, soapy, grimy sometimes all at once, however that worked. And it was but little comfort that they had a laundress to do the actual washing, for one woman could only do as much. Relieving the young maid of her heavy load Darcy carried the coal over to the hob likewise.

  'You are quite a gentleman, lad,' Smith chuckled.

  'And since I am early, I could pump some more water, if you like,' he offered with an embarrassed grin.

  'Please, dear. I would have John take care of it, but he is busy polishing the boots and that always takes him forever. Don't know what he's doing with them, but at least he does it thoroughly.'

  Darcy only chuckled. It was presumably the only time of day that the boy was sitting down for any length of time before he was made to run errands again all day long. And young lads were not exactly known for their eagerness to do any such thing as exert themselves if it was not absolutely necessary if he recalled his own youth correctly. - Unless there was fun to be had, of course.

  By the time no bucket was left empty, the stable lads as well as Johnson and Peters had arrived also and breakfast was ready.

  'What do you want me to do today, Sir?' he inquired between sips of thin tea.

  'The box hedges around the beds need a little trim and then nothing but the usual,' was the short answer.

  Peters was not much of a morning person. If one did not know, one could almost think he was cross, but by ten his mood had usually improved significantly. Darcy was slightly reminded of Bingley. His friend was not a morning person either.

  Chapter 14

  I hold that the parentheses are by far the most important parts of a non-business letter.

  - D.H. Lawrence

  Her night had been restless, her mind too full of thoughts to find much sleep. It was on an impulse when she had suggested to send a book out to William so he could occupy himself while waiting. After all, normally there were two men waiting; but they had been informed that the stable boys were all tied up in the stable and could not come. Yet, he had performed the task admirably, once more had been courteous and not in the least awkward when helping them into or out of the carriage as if he had done so at least a hundred times.

  Curiously she had watched how he would react to the book, whether he would be taken aback to be given something as challenging as “Richard III”, perhaps even toss it aside, but no, he had appeared bewildered at first and then had started reading in the dim light that fell through her aunt's windows, leaning back comfortably on his perch until he must have sensed her scrutiny and had looked about him with searching eyes. Even now Elizabeth was not sure whether he had seen her or not, but it had been absolutely necessary then to step back from the window and for the rest of the evening she had avoided it altogether.

  When she awoke at dawn it had been in vain to attempt to go back to sleep and so she had gotten dressed to stroll the countryside. The temptation of looking at the little creatures had been too great to resist, however, and at this time of day, it was unlikely that she would run into anybody anyway.

  But there Elizabeth had been mistaken. She had stood in the doorway for a while to adjust her eyes to the semi-darkness within and there William had stood, gently caressing the foal with such tenderness it almost brought her to tears. It was absolutely necessary to run, and yet, her curiosity had once again gotten the better of her and instead of doing what she ought to have done, run from her own silliness, she had spoken out.

  It had been stupid. Absolutely stupid!

  And now she was even more determined to find out what his secret was, for that there was one, she was certain of. For one he had not always been a gardener, he had basically admitted as much. But then, what had he been? A groom would be the obvious answer, but she had drawn the wrong conclusion once already when assuming that he was a gardener by profession. He could just as well have been a footman, he was sure handsome and tall enough for it and he had the manners as well as the speech. If that was the case, however, it would have been better for him to stay in town.

  The thought that the mysterious woman who had rejected him had been of high social standing crossed her mind again. What other reason could he have to hide away here in the country where little was to be gained and where he had but little opportunity?

  There was nothing to it, perhaps she should write to her aunt in town and inquire at least after his last employer and then she could go from there. Mr Darcy... - An elegant name somehow, yet unpretentious. It was easy to remember as well but she was almost certain to not have come across it in the papers as yet. Or perhaps she had. It was always difficult to remember a name when one could not connect it with a face.

  After her brisk walk in the cold air, that was exactly what she did, assembling a careful missive to her aunt Gardiner in London. Not an easy task when trying to avoid revealing her innermost feelings.

  Dear Aunt,

  I hope this letter finds you and my cousins and uncle well. Here in Hertfordshire spring is coming slowly but surely, but then again, I am always impatient for the weather to get warmer so I can stay outside as long as I please without being scolded that I might catch cold.

  So far, so good. But how to breach the subject at hand? Neither could she claim to have made a new acquaintance nor could she allege that she had read about Mr Darcy in the papers since both were easy to detect as falsehoods on her side and that would not do. But she could say that she had lately heard the name mentioned in a conversation. It was, after all, the truth even if a little stretched.

  There is nothing in the usual gossip that I assume might interest you – though I will add a shortened list of the goings on so you might roll your eyes at our ever insignificant lives here in the country: Martha Maberly had yet another child, her tenth, if I have not lost count and I am not at all sure whether it is a boy or a girl, but I am at least certain it is one of the two.

  Henry Watson is engaged to Josephine Goulding, poor one, for I know hardly a couple as mismatched as them. But they may as yet have merits each I have not discovered for he is dull and forever preaching sermons and she is lively and never paying much attention. Well, thinking about it, perhaps they will suit each other just fine after all.

  Mary King had her coming out much to mother's chagrin for she has turned out to be rather pretty, though Lydia insists that her freckles are intolerable and mama cannot but agree with her there.

  Oh, and speaking of Lydia, she is to come out at the next ball in Meryton, which takes place in about two weeks when the moon is full again.

  Charlotte Lucas had a severe cold these past few days but her voice has returned to the degree that she can pass for a crow cackling when she is speaking instead of a ghost moaning. She laughed heartily at my comparison, I might add.

  And that is really all there is to tell. As I have warned, it is not much.

  The only thing of interest was a conversation I have overheard of Sir William speaking about a Mr Darcy he has met in town. He must be a prominent creature by Sir William's account, but I could hardly inquire without attracting mother's attention, and you know, whenever there is talk of men, she will assume they are eligible and in want of a wife. But I have to admit my curiosity is piqued and I feel quite stupid not having heard of such a seemingly important man, especially if he should be tempted to take Netherfield Park and so I apply to you, for you know London and its inhabitants as well as anybody, whether by hearsay or actually knowing them. - And here you have another example of our pitiable state of ignorance.

  It was still a blatant lie, but it would be difficult for her aunt to ever find out and besides, there had been many gentlemen who had looked at Netherfield, which had stood empty these past five years at least, and then be gone
never to be seen in the neighbourhood ever again.

  Now all that remains is to assure you that we are all well, that Lydia is excited beyond anything we have as yet experienced. Kitty likewise, for there is little fun getting into scrapes without her sister as you very well know. Mother is busy planning for the ball. Father is safely ensconced in his library. Mary is practising the piano as much as she can between making extracts and reading Fordyce's Sermons. Jane is looking radiant and I am laughing and speaking just as much nonsense as ever.

  Yours etc.

  Elizabeth Bennet

  Yes, that would do. She folded the sheet of writing paper, then sealed it, determined to bring it to the post as soon as she had finished breakfast and before she had time to think again.

  Chapter 15

  In an age like ours, which is not given to letter-writing, we forget what an important part it used to play in people's lives.

  - Anatole Broyard

  Over a week passed until Darcy heard from either of his friends or his sister, but that was to be expected, and just as he had written them, they all arrived in a bunch. He tucked them away. There was no time to read them now, but later on, he would find a quiet spot out of doors and tend to them. For now, there were seedlings to tend and gravel to be smoothed and weeds to be pulled. An endless cycle of work, yet not an unpleasant one.

  It was the first time that he really felt that leisure was a luxury, an idle hour a gift and not a curse, a thing that needed to be filled with meaningless conversation just for the sake of it. He had long since suspected as much, now it was a certainty, something most of his peers would never understand.

  When dinner was at last over, he was free and seeking out a little bench right at the back of the property, where no-one ever went at this time of day, and where finally he could break the seal of his sister's missive without the danger of an interruption.

  Dearest brother,

  yes, I was indeed surprised, to hear about your “adventure” but I am also happy for you, for I know how little you like to be in London and how tedious you think social gatherings to be. You did seem out of spirits when last I saw you at Christmas at the mere prospect and it pained me. You are always so good, that I wish nothing more than for you to be happy and I feel miserable in the knowledge that I can contribute so little towards you being so.

  I sometimes cannot help thinking that perhaps we are taking too many things for granted and so we are thus doomed to always stay unsatisfied because satisfaction rarely stems from the fulfilment of all our wishes, but rather from still having something to wish for. If we are jaded, we lose so much and yet do not know it. In short, I heartily agree with your step and do not think you mad at all.

  Moreover, it does put a quite un-ladylike grin on my face to picture you as an under-gardener, all murky and dishevelled. It is a difficult thing to imagine as well, to see my neat big brother dressed in smocks and worn out boots, but I dare say, whatever your clothes, you will still cut a fine figure. It is impossible to think of you otherwise no matter the attire.

  The family you serve sounds lovely, and I wish I could meet them one day. If Miss Bennet is really as pretty as you say, it would be a great pleasure looking at her and Miss Elizabeth seems to be a very interesting young woman. She appears to have good sense, too, if she thought you might be the right man for the position. It already recommends her to me.

  As for the younger Miss Bennets, I am not sure I would get along with them since they seem so very different from myself. And yet, I do get along with Miss Bingley, though Miss Caroline does intimidate me on occasion, I have to confess, and I am never quite certain she really likes me. In short, one can never be certain and there might as yet be many surprises along the way. And at any rate, it is not likely I will actually ever meet any of them unless they are in the habit of going to town for the Season, which in turn does not seem to be the case since they are obviously in the country at present when the Season is in full swing. - Another of these terms so threadbare it is almost laughable, do you not agree?

  I will have to conclude now, for though my candle is far from burning out, it is almost time to get ready for bed, and while normally I write my letters in the afternoon, down in the parlour as any other girl in this place, I thought that considering your current circumstances, it might be better to retreat to my room to do so now and since the only time I get to go to my room is in the evening, that in turn means my time is limited, for Mrs Brooke is very strict about our curfew.

  You most affectionate sister

  Georgiana Darcy

  His sister's letter made him smile and sigh all at once. She was not happy, he knew that, but to read she thought herself responsible for his happiness was painful. If anything, he was responsible for hers, not the other way around. And for her fifteen summers, she sounded decidedly too serious. At least her judgement of Caroline Bingley showed that she had good sense and it made him chuckle in amusement. He could not have put it any better.

  Carefully he stowed his sister's letter away and tended to the next at hand.

  His cousin's letter was more in the style of a military dispatch, short and to the point, which was quickly explained in the two last of the five lines that stated that he had already gone down to Kent to visit their aunt due to a problem with one of her tenants and the fact that the parsonage needed some work to be ready for her new parson. In short, all was well and taken care of, no need to worry. Good!

  Last was Bingley's missive, as always hard to decipher but surprisingly long.

  Dear friend,

  I am mightily glad you are faring well and are enjoying yourself.

  Here in London, the weather is rather foul and foggy this time of year. Not comfortable at all, so it is all the more pleasant being huddled up in a ballroom, though I dare say you would disagree.

  Louisa got engaged two days ago, to a Mr Hurst. You might know the fellow, he at least claimed to know you. The wedding is to be held in April and I am already dreading having to deal with all the settlements. What do I know about marriage? Not all that much aside from that it is a pleasant enough state. I have to say, her decision surprised me, but he seemed a good enough fellow and he has an uncle in parliament.

  Miss Catrell has likewise gotten engaged and that is just as well. To a baron, no less. I am quite proud of her. She is a charming little creature and I truly like her, but what would she want with a mere “Mister” such as myself? No, she is born for greater things than that! Besides, her interests are so very different from my own.

  Caroline, of course, is forever pestering me where you have gone and whether I have heard from you already. As yet I have managed to evade her. She is also going on about purchasing an estate so I can pass myself off as a proper gentleman as she puts it. You would not know where to find such a thing, would you? I start to be quite at my wit's end. There was that one estate in Somerset I liked quite well, but Caroline was quite against it, claiming it was both too far away from town and our relations. Hertfordshire is both close enough to London and northward, so that should please her.

  But speaking of Caroline, I just hear her now in the vestibule and so

  The letter had not been signed, a sure sign that Bingley had hastily folded it up and not bothered to return to it before handing it to his footman to be posted. It obviously had been a close call, but for now, he was still safe. Good, again nothing to worry about.

  The evening as yet was too pleasant to go inside just yet and so he strolled around a little. The nearly three weeks had brought about quite a change. Ha, and there was the little hedgehog again sniffing its way through the underbrush. For a moment Darcy stood and watched it before finally deciding to go to bed. The answers would have to wait for another day, today it was getting late and Darcy felt tired all of a sudden.

  Chapter 16

  People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light fro
m within.

  - Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

  The past week had stretched near endlessly in Elizabeth's impatience, but at long last Mrs Gardiner's answer arrived. She had avoided William as best as she could during this time, which proved to be more difficult than she had imagined. Sure, Peters was around in the garden most days as well, but though she had always greeted him, his presence had never bothered her. Well, neither did that of William’s, quite the contrary, but paradoxically it was just that which was bothering. It was almost as if some undetermined power wanted them to meet whenever it was least expected and only the night before she had almost run into him again when she had gone out to catch some fresh air after a late dinner, due to a long afternoon at the Lucas’.

  Only at the last moment had she spotted him sitting at the very back of the garden where no-one ever ventured at this time of day and where her steps had consequently led her for exactly that reason. To just escape the noise of her sisters for a couple of minutes before going back in. To just sit and watch the sky change colour as the sun slowly set.